The Lavation
by KayLaurent
Summary: It started with a telephone call in the middle of the night. Then it became a game that one hundred contestants were thrown into: a game where only one winner could emerge alive.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:_

Hello everyone! Here's a story that I've been working on for awhile. I sort of want to call it a prison-escape story, but I'm not sure if that's really the right way to describe it. I've had the idea for a pretty long time – it's sort of like an obscure cross between various prison escape stories, dystopian future stories, and the film The Condemned with Steve Austin, the later of which I'll admit openly isn't one of my favorite movies at all. To be honest, it's actually a pretty terrible one. I wasn't really committed to writing this at all at first, but after reading a few really decent stories in this section, I was really inspired and started thinking about this weird, unconventional idea that pretty much screamed to be written.

Onto the obligatory maturity warning. I'm normally not big on putting a lot of violence into the stuff I write, but the very nature of this story sort of calls for it. This isn't for young children, elderly people, people who like to complain, or a combination of the last two. The only reason this story isn't rated M is because of the fact that I'm going to try not to go into superfluously graphic detail on some of the nastier things that happen.

On a final note, now that I'm recently proofread the first chapter, I've come to realize it that the opening of the story and some of the plot elements seem influenced from another story in this fandom. You'll probably see what I mean soon. Please bear with me and try to make it through the first few chapters. I promise once you really get to this story's subject matter a few chapters into the story, it's going to absolutely nothing like the aforementioned one – absolutely nothing like it at _all_. Just trust me.

Anyway, with all of that out of the way, I hope you enjoy what I'm putting together here!

* * *

**The Lavation**

* * *

It had started a week ago with a telephone ringing three times in the dead of night. The raw meat of it had gone on for years beforehand, making every detail of it seem gritty and foul like something rotting in the sun, but the raw meat of the matter had started with the telephone call. He'd lay in bed for the first three rings, listening to it echo through every nook and cranny of their apartment. It had been a warm summer night and the air conditioner on the windowsill had been battering noisily like white noise in the back of his head. It had seemed like he'd been lying there for a long time, but in the grand scheme of things, it couldn't have been more than thirty seconds – that was when he'd gotten up to answer the call.

It wasn't long before then that Yakko Warner had started to lose his mind.

He stood now in front of the bathroom in the terminal of Bob Hope International Airport with a gray knapsack slung over his shoulder. The time was six-thirty in the morning and the terminal's long throat was filled with strangers heading off in different directions, all of them with faces too perpetually preoccupied to take notice of each other. Tight squadrons of men in business suits and briefcases walked with their heads bowed down toward the ground. Befuddled tourists from the eastern coast tried to make sense of airport maps, hurrying their children along the long hallway that stretched in front of them. A high glass window stood opposite from the bathroom beside the waiting area of Gate 36, and at that very moment, there was an audible screech of an airplane grinding down the asphalt on the tarmac outside and taking off high into the skies above Burbank on that Tuesday morning.

Yakko wasn't watching the plane. He wasn't watching anything in particular but the people in the terminal – the ones that were staring at him. Some people may have been able to dismiss it, figuring the uncanny stares as nothing more than a coincidence, but not Yakko. He was aware of every stare and glance that the passerby gave him, but at the same time, refused to let himself become unnerved by it. The stares all varied. Some of them were sympathetic, the way a hunter would pity prey on a savannah, while other people had a more conspicuous way of doing it by stealing glances at him that were so quick that they couldn't be interpreted as anything at all. That was all right though. He could still smile at them, and in his own way – a way that was becoming more and more insignificant every day – that would serve as his victory.

Yakko's smile was a confident one, a wise smirk that was both assuring and taunting at the same time. It had been like that ever since early childhood. It was a smile that was proud but somewhat unaware at the same time, the natural response of somebody whose words admittedly spoke louder than his actions. While this might have been true any other day, Yakko was not smiling now because he had something to say – he was smiling because he was thinking. In the recent years, he'd done a lot of that. The smile was just a façade to hide it.

His sharp eyes scanned the crowd like a sniper and caught faces in the crowd like a collage of photographs. An elderly woman in a sunflower hat hurried along, muttering under her breath like she was distraught about something. A toon squirrel wearing a black hooded sweatshirt hurried along toward the gates further down the terminal. A faction of blonde university girls walked by gossiping excitedly, and when they caught sight of him standing by the bathroom, they turned and began to exchanger something inaudible in harsh whispers. The crowd itself was an uneven blend of humans and toons all heading in the same direction, some of them looking commonplace while others stood out more. He watched them all file down the terminal like people being swallowed down some kind of guttural throat, most of them making it quite apparent that they weren't going to be returning anytime soon.

In his mind, almost like euphoria, he repeated what the telephone call had said. He thought it over and over, and somehow, it didn't help: _Three vacancies, just three..._

The people themselves a rhymethic pattern – some people looked at him and some people didn't. The old Yakko Warner might have felt angry about this, maybe even said something to the people that stared, but now he couldn't help but have a mellow feeling of indifference. It was a sad thing, almost terrible when you really looked at it, but it was just something that everyone had grown to casually accept. That being said, he wasn't the only one getting stares – most of the toons in the crowd walked on the wayside trying to avoid attention, although on the contrary, this only made it seem like the humans were looking through a glass wall at them.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable as he stood by the bathroom, Yakko adjusted the straps of his knapsack. Not a suitcase – just a knapsack with a few changes of clothes thrown in at the last minute. Their trip to the airport hadn't been an abrupt one, seeing how he'd gotten the phone call weeks in advance, but when everything was taken away and all you owned were the clothes on your back, your outlook on things had a way of changing.

"An hour delay. It's like everyone's working against me."

He turned at the sound of the voice to the doorway of the girl's bathroom. Dot Warner was walking out through the doorway wheeling her luggage behind her, looking plaintively like she'd seen better days. The fact that she'd been rushed out of the house in the morning had seemed to have done a number on her and she glared at him with narrow eyes as she walked up, almost daring him to say something.

Yakko smirked. "What's wrong now, Dot?"

"Well, off the top of my head," Dot began quickly, resting her hands on the handle of her luggage. "My head feels like a jackhammer's pounding on it. I'm about to go on a flight I have no business getting on to. I feel like I slept two hours last night, and to tell you the truth Yakko, my brain doesn't even know where it's heading anymore.

"It's heading to New York."

"That's all you can say?" Dot asked with her eyebrows raised. "Four-o-clock in the morning, Yakko. Out the door at _four-o-clock_. That means getting up early just so the three of us could get cross-examined five times by airport security and leave this one-horse town. That's fifteen minutes to get all of my stuff together and clear out of the tower like we've never lived there. And trust me, after all of that, the one thing I was looking forward to more than anything else was the comedy of wit of the talented Yakko Warner at six-thirty in the morning."

"Everyone needs their beauty sleep, Dot," Yakko said impatiently. "but that didn't stop your brother and I from taking the time to pack last night."

"Pack what?" Dot shot back. "We lost everything because of you. They took it all away because you had to open your big mouth and now all you can do is joke about it."

Yakko raised an eyebrow. "And the one thing they want to gain out of that little sister, the one thing that they've been wanting this whole time, is the reaction you're giving me right now."

"I'd rather react then fly away from Burbank and never come back," Dot scoffed. "It's like we're giving in. Is it just me, or isn't that what they want us to do after anyway?"

"We can come back anytime we want," Yakko said. "We just have to wait for things to simmer down a little. Just figure this as a temporary thing.

"This isn't temporary," Dot said with a scowl. "The whole state deciding to outlaw drawing toons isn't temporary. It's retirement. _Permanent retirement_. What you're doing to the three of us is like a family sending away their grandmother once she gets Alzheimers. Only it really isn't Alzheimers that's tearing us apart, is it Yakko? No, of course not - it's a _cancer_. It's a cancer that's right here in Burbank and it's not going to stop until it gets to everyone it can."

"Did you work all night on that analogy, Dot?" Yakko asked. The words came naturally to him and he wasn't really listening to his sister anymore. He stared out at the crowd in deep thought, watching the crowd file down the long throat of a terminal the way salmon made their journey upstream. He thought of the telephone call again and then he began to feel sick.

"Oh please," Dot sighed. "Don't pretend you're blind to all of this, Yakko. You know what's going on. You're just trying to get us out this place before it gets any wor-

"Man, I can't even go and take a whiz without the whole family killing each other."

The two of them turned at the same time to see their brother emerging from the men's bathroom. Wakko Warner had a heavy duffel bag hanging at his side, an electronic keyboard poking out of the zipper like an ugly snout. He smiled vacantly at the two of them as he walked up to join them. He had a smile that was blank and thoughtful, usually leaving the rest of the world completely unsure of what he was thinking of to begin with – it had even started to bemuse Yakko a little lately. In the grand scheme of things, there was really very little in their situation to smile at. Back when they were kids, Yakko could vaguely remember a stupid joke that a woman at the studio's costume department had said about his brother - something about his grin reminded you of static on a television when you didn't get any reception. The fact that he'd never quite gotten over the habit of his tongue hanging out of his mouth didn't do anything to better it.

"Looks like I came just in time to join the family drama," Wakko said with a yawn. "What's the problem this time?"

"Nothing," Yakko said quickly. "Marie Antoinette here is just having another one of her moments. You have the tickets, right Wakko?"

"Yep," Wakko said. "All three of them."

None of them spoke very much as they began to walk down the terminal and joined the crowd. The sun's early rays were beginning to streak through the terminal's windows and reflect off the tiled walls and floors. Here and there they passed casual eateries or early morning bistros selling coffee and pastries; a little further down they started to pass different boarding gates where people sat in rows of chairs as the planes rolled silently around the tarmac outside the glass window beside them. Yakko felt the presence of more stares as he walked down and did his best to ignore them. He glanced over and saw that Dot still looked angry, caught up in some kind of internal conflict that she didn't want to share with her brother. Wakko looked pretty unfazed by everything and didn't even look bothered with the looks they were getting in the terminal. Yakko glanced down and caught sight of the keyboard sticking out of his duffel bag – it pained him that the instrument was really the only valuable thing left that his brother owned. His mind drifted back to the telephone call again, something he'd almost cursed himself not to think about, but he pushed it away. He didn't need it – especially not now.

"That piano's really the only thing you're bringing with you?" Yakko asked finally.

"It's the only thing worth taking", Wakko said blankly. "I brought a toothbrush and some clothes too."

Yakko smiled at his brother but didn't say anything. It was really something that he knew he would never understand. Even from an early age, Wakko had always been somewhat of an introvert – it was a niche that Yakko had attempted to break when he was younger, attempting to introduce him to more people and even force him to attend the wrap parties when they were done filming their show, but after awhile, it became clear that he and his brother were entirely different people. The facts couldn't be plainer. If Yakko was a social butterfly, somebody who had never really had trouble making friends, his brother had made it his ambition in life to remain a caterpillar. He was friendly enough when it came down to it and he wanted to have fun as much as the next guy, but in the grand scheme of things, his quirky nature and strange habits had really done a number on him after awhile.

That was where the piano had come in. It had started with an opportunity offered by one of the show's executives – a lot of people in the studio's music department had a lot of time on their hands and some of them were offering to teach some of the young actors on the lot. Yakko had immediately jumped at the chance and signed up his brother. It had been a skeptical thing at first – for all he knew, his brother might have just grudgingly went along with it to please him. To everyone's astonishment though, it ended up being up quite the opposite. It was soon a regular sight to see Wakko sometimes sitting up past midnight on the piano and playing his heart out, eventually even churning out his own sonatas with sheet music sprawled out on the floor of his room. The days where it rained were his favorite – those were the days where he could justifiably stay inside and play all day with no reason to get some fresh air. Dot had always said that that was how could figure out if people were lonely – they were the ones that were happy on rainy days. They were the musical virtuosos that were perfectly content with sitting up until the crack of dawn and playing Fur Elise on the piano, complacent and obligated to live in their own fantasy world. Yakko hadn't known whether to yell at her or not.

"It's pretty crowded today," Wakko said suddenly. It seemed like she was slowly starting to get over their argument.

"What?" Yakko said. He'd been lost in his thoughts and had almost forgotten where they are.

"I said it's pretty crowded today," Wakko said. "Are you okay? You've hardly talked today. It's not like you."

"Look," Dot cut in abruptly.

The three of them turned to see an old man waving cheerfully at them from behind one of the breakfast bistros at the side of the terminal. He was bald with a beer gut and wore wire-rimmed glasses that shone in the sunlight streaming in through the window. He reminded Yakko of some kind of archetypal German baker with his pastries and greasy apron over his belly. As they passed by, he raised a beefy arm and offered an encouraging thumbs-up at them.

As the Warners passed, he called out, "Don't let them get you kids down! "

"People support us," Dot said after she gave a short wave back to the man. She actually sounded genuinely excited. "People actually support us!"

"A thumbs-up isn't going to get us our house back," Yakko said. "If he wants to help, he can grab a picket sign and got to town hall." After he said it however, he immediately regretted it. The man was past his prime and didn't look like he would have the will power to protest anything in the near future, nonetheless even continue to work at an airport selling breakfast pastries much longer. The man was old.

Yakko glanced over at Dot and couldn't help but be amused. She seemed to be caught in the mental struggle of talking to her siblings while dragging her heavy suitcase along with her. It seemed surreal to him that despite losing their property and virtually all of their belongings, Dot had somehow found a way to pack a bag overflowing with clothes. It almost seemed to him like she had a secret storage somewhere.

"Need any help with that, Dot?" Yakko asked suddenly.

"No thanks," Dot said quickly. "I just have a lot of stuff in here. I mean, it's not like I could've come home early to pack last night. I had a date.

"Who's the guy this time?" Wakko asked.

"None of your business if I'm just going to get criticized for it", Dot said harshly. "He's a nice guy if that makes you two feel any better though."

It was hard for either of her brothers to not roll her eyes. The argument had become a recurring theme for their family and the way things were going, it showed no indication of stopping anytime soon. It was hard for Yakko to pinpoint exactly, but sometime down the road after their show's cancellation, things had started to change. While many could just simply attribute it to growing up, almost like an act of nature, Yakko knew it was more than that and when he looked back at it he couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic over the whole fiasco – maybe even a little sad. It had started simply enough with Dot saying that she wanted to see the world. She would eagerly tell her brothers over breakfast that one day she would leave California and run as far as her legs could take her. She would board a boat; she would see the world; she go out into the real world and fall in love with some picturesque guy on a beach. The story had become so repetitive after awhile that Wakko and Yakko had eventually just stopped listening entirely to their sister's adolescent fantasies. It only seemed natural to Yakko when you really looked at it – she was just a young girl who had spent her whole life virtually quarantined on a movie lot. It didn't faze him at all that she wanted to go out and stretch her legs a little.

What did faze him, however, were the people that she'd started to hang out with. They'd come to the tower to pick her up at odd hours of the night as she got older, only to drop her off in the late afternoon the following morning. At that point, Yakko would find his sister sprawled out on her bed with the stench of cheap liquor in her room almost unbearable. If this wasn't what sent Yakko over the edge, it was the very nature of the guys themselves. Most of them were toons that obviously lived in the seedier areas of Burbank, choosing to pick her up in expensive cars that not only looked stolen, but practically looked hotwired for street racing and had been decked out in elaborate paint jobs. Some of the guys were in gangs, others seemed to always be looking for a fight, and virtually all of them seemed to be under the influence of something.

The whole dating ordeal went on for roughly two months before he put his foot down. He'd caught her one night out in the studio's parking lot shortly after one of the guys had dropped her off. She'd been walking back to the tower in a drunken stupor when he'd caught her. What had followed was a massive shouting war so brutal that by the end, both of them had been almost on the verge of tears. The resolution to their fight, if it could ended be called that, had involved Dot storming into their tower, packing her things, and taking off into the night. When he looked back at it, the event was almost imprinted into his head. The image of Dot in a rumpled dress sobbing her eyes out in the living room. The sound of a picture frame shattering as it crashed into their television set. Even the sound of Wakko almost oblivious to the situation in the next room, playing one of his sonatas and doing little to drone out the sound of the screaming.

"Is it nice guy who brought you in to bail him out on a drug charge?" Yakko asked his sister. "Or how about the nice guy who got you into that bar fight last October? The way you choose these losers Dot, I'd say nice guys are your specialty."

"It looks like cutting me down is yours," Dot shot back. "There's plenty of fish in the sea, you know."

"I'm not making fun of you, Dot," Yakko said as gently as he could. This argument had become somewhat of a recurring theme for them and he had little intention of going back to revisit it. "I'm just a little worried about you coming home about once a week just to borrow money and leave when I don't even know where the hell you're living to begin with."

"I'm seventeen, Yakko. I'm seventeen and I'm independent.

"If you were independent," Yakko concluded. "You wouldn't have dropped out of the school that I paid for: a private school that probably cost me more money than any of your nice guys will ever make in their lives. If you'd just stayed there you wouldn't have even met those guys to begin with."

"If you weren't so overprotective, you wouldn't have paid the money to send me to that stupid plac-

"Man, you guys bicker like an old couple," Wakko sighed. "Let's just get on the plane and get this over with. Is anyone hungry?"

"No," Yakko said simply. "I never thought I'd say it, I think I'll just settle for airline food once we're out of here. Let's just find out gate."

They'd reached what seemed like the end of the terminal where the crowd was emptied out into a round room with different departure gates in every corner. The room itself was so crowded that is bordered as pandemonium and airport security was directing people toward different areas. It seemed rather clear that many people had no intention of staying in California any longer. As they passed, they walked by a skinny man wearing overalls and scrubbing the terminal's floor with a rag. He had one of those carts beside him that was stacked with colored cleaning products and smelled nauseatingly like chlorine. The man glanced up at the three of them as they walked by with an exasperated look on his face, almost like he'd just found a spot on the floor that he'd never be able to wipe off. He grumbled and gave them the finger before returning irritably to his job.

"Now why would he do that?" Wakko cried. "No need to hold a grudge like that this early in the morning."

"Relax," Yakko said sharply. "He's the first honest citizen we've seen since we got here, and we're not even on the plane yet."

"Were you watching TV last night?" Wakko asked.

"No," Yakko said. He could still feel Dot fuming beside him. "I was staying up hoping a certain someone had the self-respect to come home. What did I miss?

"The regular stuff," Wakko continued. "Just a lot of bigwigs talking about everything. One of them stood up and gave a whole speech about progress and what it means to be a California citizen. Then they went on to patriotism. After that, they started talking about how it's time to move on and how the past is better off forgotten. Then they started talking about the ban and it all went downhill from there.

Yakko stared. "How did it end?

"I don't know", Wakko admitted. "I turned off the TV and went to sleep."

"We should do something," Dot said again. "We should really do something."

"You're really starting to sound like a broken record, you know that?" Yakko said.

All three of them were caught off-guard when a stranger in a heavy coat brushed by them with his head bowed down toward the ground. He was wearing a fedora that hid his face like an old gangster movie and he seemed oddly unaware of almost everyone around him. His elbow connected with Yakko's as they passed and the two of them locked eyes with each other for a moment – the small second in time was just enough for Yakko to not only see the green fur on the stranger's face but also discern that it was a toon not much older than he was.

"Watch it man," the stranger hissed as he hurried by.

"Watch yourself," Yakko replied without thinking.

"Someone has problems," Dot said with a smirk.

"Most people do,"Wakko said shortly. There was an awkward pause after he finished speaking and it seemed like he was in deep though for a second. It wasn't until a moment of later that a wave of realization hit his face. "Uh-oh."

"What's wrong?" Dot asked. "Still hungry?

"It's not important," Wakko said. "Really, it's not. It's just…I think I left my pills back home.

"You'll be fine", Dot said "We'll just get you a hundred pretzels on the plane and you'll calm right down again."

"But I don't think I can get on a plane without them," Wakko said darkly. "I don't handle this kind of stuff well. I'm just going to start getting all jumpy on the runway. I need them with me. Is there a place I can pick up medicine around here?'

"They run a pharmacy down on the ground floor," Yakko said as he adjusted the strap of his backpack. "I'll go and pick it up. You take Ritalin, right?"

Wakko nodded in response. This wasn't anything new for either of them. For roughly two years, the middle Warner had been heavily medicated for what a studio doctor best described as a possible case of acute paranoia as well as a mild case of attention deficit hyperactivity-disorder. While a doctor could throw out any textbook definition he wanted, even his siblings couldn't deny that there brother had always had issues that nobody had ever really made an effort to diagnose. The hardest part had been telling their brother, the same brother that that had pretty much breezed through life with a smile on his face, that there was actually something wrong with him.

His occasional quips of hyperactivity had mellowed out as he grew up – Yakko attributing this mainly to his focus on the piano – but in situations that called for it, Wakko tended to get nervous to the point where he began to panic. His siblings had seen these episodes than once and had no intention of revisiting them. A panic attack was a mild inconvenience for a human, but for a toons, it was borderline dangerous – when toons lost proper judgment, there was no telling what could happen.

Dot looked skeptical. "Are you sure you can make it back by boarding? We only have about twenty minutes."

"Positive," Yakko said with a wink. "I'll be back in five minutes tops."

Wakko grinned. "Thanks."

He took his time walking away from his siblings. The sun had risen fully now and the air somehow felt fresher, less congested with the influx of people being swept down the terminal. The crowd's numbers started to diminish as he walked further back, pressing against the crowd like a salmon fighting a river's current upstream. He took virtually no notice of the stares – some hostile and sympathetic – that he and the other toons in the hallway were still getting. Yakko was so submerged in his own thought nobody else really seemed to matter.

He thought, _"I'd rather have them punch me than whisper like that."_

His mind rambled like a runaway freight train as he walked onward, turning a corner near the baggage claim area and heading toward the escalators that led down to the ground floor. He thought of Dot coming home at odd hours of the night to borrow money; about the sound of Wakko playing his ghostly sonatas in the living room before the sun even rose; he even thought about himself sitting in the kitchen on those very same mornings, reading the newspaper or watching television with a lukewarm cup of black coffee at his side. He thought about all of it at once, and somehow, he ended up feeling sad. It had been a long time since Yakko Warner had allowed himself to be sad – most of the time lately, the most he could do was let himself be frustrated. Not with anyone in particular, but with the way things had turned out. It was a quiet, discomforting feeling that he supposed everyone got as they grew up: things just weren't the way they used to be.

It had all started after their show had been cancelled. He hadn't been scared at first – all his life, he'd been completely capable of raising his siblings by himself. The three of them had been so accustomed to their life that the fact that they didn't have parents had never occurred to them. It was commonplace knowledge that most toons in show business didn't have parents anyway. That wasn't to say the early lectures hadn't been hard when he was little. For as long as he could remember, it had seemed like everybody around Yakko only had one piece of advice to offer him: _look after your brother and sister. They look up to you so you better look out for them. _Yakko had heard the same spiel so many times that eventually it came as first nature to him. He'd cooked their meals everyday, tucked them in at night, and in the end, just sort of blatantly accepted them as his responsibility. It had always been like that so he'd simply figured it was just something that everybody dealt with.

But when he looked back at it now, it really seemed like the definitive line where he'd stopped being a kid and – in some strange way or another - he'd practically grown up overnight. He didn't know whether to feel proud of it or ashamed.

"_And then there's the phone call,"_ Yakko's mind gibbered at him. _"Don't forget the phone call."_

Yakko wasn't sure exactly how he stepped off the escalator ended up on the ground floor. He'd been thinking so hard that his feet had simply moved like they were set on a blind course. The ground floor of Bob Hope International Airport was like an open gazebo with artificial palm trees jutting up from the ground and fast-food eateries scattered around on both an upper and lower. The ceiling eventually sloped up into broad daylight like some kind of foreign marketplace and Yakko realized that the temperature had warmed up considerably since they'd left the tower earlier that morning. He winced his eyes in the harsh sunlight and glanced around quickly. A crooked street vendor near the escalator was offering souvenir shirts to gullible tourists; a little further past him, a disgruntled looking man walked into a tacky-looking airport bar which was surprisingly profiting with customers at only six-thirty in the morning.

Yakko's eyes finally settled reluctantly on a rack of newspapers sitting just outside the bar. It took a moment for him to force a quick glance at the front page's headline:

"**CALIFORNIA BECOMES FIFTH STATE TO APPROVE BAN OF DRAWING TOONS: EXODUS OF ANGRY CITIZENS."**

It took a moment for him to spot the pharmacy. It was a small hole in the wall sandwiched between a fast-food eatery and a cheap convenience store. A red cross was painted on the front door and various ointments and medications littered the window display in a haphazard mess. He hurried over as quickly as he could, mentally gauging how much time he had before the plane took off. The chimes and bells above the doorway jingled as he walked into the pharmacy and found himself in a small room with peeling white wallpaper. A pimply teenage girl sat behind the front desk reading some kind of romance novel. She was chewing bubblegum, and when she saw him standing there in the pharmacy, her eyes enlarged and she nearly spit it out of her mouth.

"My brother needs Ritalin," Yakko said quickly. "Do you have any in stock?

The girl behind the counter seemed to stare fearfully at him, almost like he was some kind of wild animal. It wasn't hard to see that her parents were probably in the vocal minority that supported every single thing that the government said. If they were getting rid of something, then that obviously meant that the aforementioned thing was bad – very, very bad. On any other day he might have found it amusing, but with the way things were going, the only thing it did was try his patience.

"Boo", Yakko said with a forced smile.

That was when she quickly rummaged into a drawer behind her and fiddled her way through labeled bottles of ointments, pills, and cough syrups. She quickly retrieved a small orange vial of pills and slammed them on the counter. She studied him for a long time, waiting for him to pick up the pills and leave the store. He imagined what it must have been like that girl and sit in the pharmacy on that particular morning, looking out through the glass display window and watching a parade of dejected toons file out toward the airport. The concept that there were even toons who had decided to stay in Burbank, the ones that weren't afraid of what was to come now the bill was passed, probably frightened her out of her mind.

"Don't I need a prescription?" Yakko asked with his eyebrows raised.

"No", the girl said quickly. "Just take it. It's...It's on the house."

"Guess I got the good deal then", Yakko said bitterly.

He turned around and opened the door with the chimes and bells jingling above him. The crowd in the ground floor had diminished; most of the people at the airport that morning seemed to be awaiting their flight in the terminal. He glanced around and saw only disquieting groups of people on the ground floor now. A toon badger was sitting outside a fast-food eatery by a table and staring out into space as he sipped a coffee. Two security guards were talking conspicuously together by the escalator about something Yakko couldn't hear. What struck him the most was a family of humans standing on the other side of the gazebo. There were four of them – a mother, a father, and two little girls – and they were presumably on vacation judging by their souvenir shirts and bright smiles. They were sitting out by a table and eating ice cream together; the woman laughing at a joke the father had told her and the kids playfully nudging each other in their seats. Yakko stared at them for a long time, and somehow, he even found a way to smile. It made him feel better; maybe even a little younger.

It was there that he heard a soft clink on the ground. He glanced down to see that he'd accidentally dropped Wakko's vial of pills onto the floor. For a moment, and just a moment, he considered not even picking them up. He'd thought for a long time that a great deal of his brother's condition was in his head and the overdose of medication the doctor had given him hadn't really helped. His condition had improved indefinitely though, and recently, Yakko had been doing the best he could to try to get him out of the house. It was a bit of losing effort though, especially since Wakko's typical excuse was that he was either playing the piano in the living room or going out to play in the street to earn a few dollars. It was hard to say whether his brother was the kind of person who liked to go out and meet people anyway.

"Here," a smooth voice cooed. "Let me get that for you.

Yakko heard the voice before he could even bend down to get the pills. He blinked and saw what appeared to be a brown coyote standing in front of him. Its eyes were curious seemed to have taken a deep interest in him, almost studying him. It didn't take a second for Yakko to realize that this toon was old – not just old, but probably one of the earliest ones to come around. His face had a depraved look to it and almost looked washed out of color. The eyes continued to stare at him and for some reason, they seemed to Yakko like eyes that had seen everything in the world. It was an unnerving idea however, and he dismissed it completely. It wasn't until he noticed the coyote was holding the orange vial of pills in his hands that he can even speak.

"Thanks," Yakko said as he accepted the pills and tossed them into his backpack. He studied the coyote's face for a moment. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"It's Burbank," the coyote said simply. "Speaking one toon to another, you're bound to see a few familiar faces. How long have you lived out here?

"My whole life," Yakko said. He had no intention of talking and wondered how long he had before his plane was due.

"Looks like you could call us neighbors," the coyote said with a wide smile. "So have I. I've been around the area at least. I've been drifting in and out for the past years. You could say this week was my homecoming to tell you the truth.

Yakko couldn't help but smile. "Nice homecoming present you got."

The coyote stared at him. "Are you talking about the ban?"

"I'm talking about the reason everyone's filing out of this airport," Yakko said simply. "So yeah, I'm talking about the ban."

"I'll suppose you don't agree with it then," the coyote continued with his eyes twinkling. "I'm indifferent about it to tell you the truth. Maybe it will end up doing some good. Where are you heading?

"Same place half of the toons here are heading," Yakko said. It struck him strange that any toon in the world could simply be indifferent about the bill "The east coast."

"New York?" the coyote asked.

Yakko was taken aback. "How'd you know?"

"With that in mind", the coyote continued. "I'll assume you're on Lansing Flight 347. Looks like we're neighbors in even more ways than I thought. For all we know, I might be sitting next to you." He paused. "I don't even know your name, do you?"

"Yakko Warner."

The coyote didn't stop grinning. "Wile.E Coyote."

It all came crashing down at once, and almost immediately, Yakko realized how incredibly stupid he was not to notice before. It was surreal that he hadn't been able to realize that one of the highest-paid toons who'd ever worked in Burbank was standing in front of him. Maybe it was the fact that he looked so different now. There was less color in his fur and he had the strange weathered look of a rag doll, his yellow eyes strangely vacant with his corneas grown a sickly yellow. Yakko couldn't help but be eerily reminded of an old scarecrow that had been left out at a pumpkin patch too long.

"I know you," Yakko said excitedly. "All the kids on the lot watched your show when I was little. All of the Looney Tunes cartoons, I mean. My little brother would kill to meet you."

"Well, I'm proud to be a role model then", Wile.E said. He paused for a moment before continuing. "So, what's your take on all of this?

Yakko didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you strike me as someone who needs to get a lot off their chest", Wile.E said. "With everything that's going on, everyone has something to talk about. Half of the toons out here have a story to tell. In fact, every single one leaving this airport right now has a story to tell. It's not like this is a removal act. No, not at all. They're leaving by choice because they're afraid of what's going to happen next. The humans that are leaving can think they're doing the same thing. They can think they're making a point with moral rights by leaving with you, but there's no denying that they don't feel it the way. They're stories are expendable."

"That's nice," Yakko said without really thinking. His voice was uneasy now and he couldn't help but feel a bit worried now. It was now starting to dawn at him that he wished he'd never ran into the coyote at all. "Look, I have to get back to my sibs. It was nice meeting you but-

"Care to tell me your story?"

"What?"

"Yakko", Wile.E said gently. "I know when somebody's upset about something. I know when somebody's lost. I wouldn't have approached you right now if you weren't. You've kept to yourself so long that you can't think straight anymore. You're a smart person; a person like you wouldn't just run to New York for no reason at all. You have to have a reason. I think it's time to tell someone your story."

For a second, Yakko didn't want to reply. He didn't see a point and it almost seemed like a guaranteed fact that the coyote would never understand what was really going on. With the blatant truth in the picture though, he couldn't deny that everything that had just been said was true. Everything had been going on for so long that after awhile he'd simply stopped living. He'd still been alive of course, but in the long run, that didn't mean anything. His life had become robotic and routine, almost to the point where he practically looked forward to Dot coming home at night. At least then she'd yell at him – at least then he'd have a reason for his voice to actually matter again.

"I got a phone call last week," Yakko said shortly. The words slipped out and hung in the air.

Wile.E's eyes were gleaming. 'And?"

"It told me they were going to offer me three vacancies in New York," Yakko continued. "There's a safe house there, sort of. I want to call it a shelter, but it's a nice one. So far, New York's been pretty strong against the ban on drawing toons. If we stay here soon, the odds are they're going to move on to bigger stuff – for all we know, they must just clear us all out and put us on an island somewhere. I had to get my brother and sister out of here. I just had to."

"Why don't you just stay?" Wile.E asked. It was clear he knew the answer but he seemed to almost be glorying in what Yakko was saying. "It's not like they're sending you to an island yet. Why don't you just stay and see what happens?"

"I don't know if I can live like this anymore," Yakko said finally. "I mean, there's so many bad memories around here. I used to talk because I liked to. After awhile, I was just talking because people listened. Nobody's listening anymore and the people that do take it the wrong way". He paused. "I said some stupid stuff and ended up losing my house. The town is probably cleaning it out right now."

"Well," Wile.E said. "I think you have a lot to think about on your flight. If you want to catch it, you better go now."

And that was when the coyote simply vanished. Yakko watched as he winked at him before turning away and heading off in a completely different direction than the escalator. Watching him leave, Yakko couldn't help but a feel a bit confused; how exactly was he planning on getting on the plane? Once the coyote was gone, Yakko instinctively looked back at the family eating ice cream at the gazebo. They weren't there anymore – in fact, it looked like they hadn't been there for a very long time. Yakko felt a quick burst of panic as his eyes searched for a clock on the ground floor, finally finding one mounted on a wall between one of the fast-food eateries. He was able to breathe a sigh of relief; he still had roughly ten minutes before the plane started to board.

Taking in a deep sigh, Yakko started to walk toward the escalator, processing everything he'd just heard along the way.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't long before their flight to New York that morning when Wakko Warner saw his own tombstone. Not in the literal sense, but in the way where you knew you were growing up and it seemed inevitable that there would be one waiting for you shortly. It also wasn't long before the flight when he began to feel nervous. He sat in the waiting area by Gate 76 and drummed his gloved fingers against the seat rest, looking around at everyone and doing his best to feel calm. His brother was always calm - or at least he had been a few months ago - so there wasn't any reason he couldn't either.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. He had always been told to think of something peaceful when he was getting nervous – "a good memory you have", as his doctor would say – so he usually settled on something from when he was little. Things had made more sense when you were a kid. Those were the times that were golden; back then, you weren't accustomed to life yet and everything seemed fresh or new. He felt his mind search for a moment before he finally found something. It was in one of the summers where their show was still in circulation and it must have been the Fourth Of July, because the three of them were sitting on top of the tower and watching somebody shooting off fireworks from the other side of the studio. The night was warm and alive with color, and on a rare occasion for Burbank, you could actually hear the sound of crickets chirping in the park nearby rather than the hustle and bustle of traffic. It was a minor detail, but Wakko recalled at that moment that he hadn't heard crickets chirping for years now.

He opened his eyes and realized that he'd stopped involuntarily drumming his fingers. He grinned to himself and let out a rather loud sigh of relief that alerted the girl sitting beside him.

"You never used to get this scared as a kid when we flew," Dot Warner said suddenly. She was sitting in the seat beside him and flipping through a teen magazine she'd found laying on a coffee table. She'd also bought a small bag of crackers from a vending machine by it and was eating them sparingly. "What happened?'

"I grew up," Wakko said simply. He wanted to explain it to her clearly but he couldn't.

"Figures," Dot sighed. She paused and popped a cracker into her mouth before continuing. "You know Wakko, I don't think I'm ever going to grow up."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I never really saw the appeal. I mean, when I was little it seemed nice but now it just seems like a waste. I'd rather stay young forever then spend my life pretending I'm something I'm not."

Wakko smiled. "That's pretty deep coming from you."

Dot smiled back. "Hey, it's not like I didn't learn anything before I left school."

The two of them grinned at the mention of it. Although they would never bring it up around their older brother, what had happened to Dot at private school had been somewhat of an inside joke between them. The whole ordeal had started shortly after the cancellation of their show. Once it was discovered that the studio was going to allow them to keep living in the water tower along with allow them to keep the fortune they'd made during the show's run, Yakko had done the first thing that seemed sensible as an older sibling – he'd used a good deal of the money to sign his younger sister up for a prestigious private school on the outskirts of town. Dot had agreed voluntarily enough, saying that she'd give it a shot and preferred it to being schooled by a tutor at the studio. Although the details were still foggy to that day, it was clear that Dot had only lasted roughly two weeks before she boarded a bus nearby and escaped. The two of them didn't like to talk about it often, especially considering all of the hardship it had caused afterward, but they'd always found humor in the fact that Dot hadn't even lasted a month.

"Yeah," Wakko said with a laugh. "You must have learned a lot in the two weeks you were there."

"It would have been one week," Dot replied. "The problem was that the schedule at the bus station was messed up and I couldn't figure out when the next Greyhound was going to show up. I couldn't stand it there anyway. Just a bunch of rich snots walking around with dormitories named after their grandparents. Not to mention the fact that I was the only toon going to school there. If it really came down to it, I would have dug a tunnel to get out of that place". She paused and offered him one of her crackers. "Are you sure you don't want one?"

"You got the wrong kind," Wakko said. "You're supposed to buy the variety pack. It tastes a lot better when you mix all the different flavors up."

"Well, that's what I get for not going to the expert," Dot said grinning.

Wakko smiled back but couldn't think of anything to say. Although he would never openly admit it, he'd always felt slightly embarrassed when it came to this. It wasn't his eating habits or the fact that he was overweight– when toons reached the age that their creator envisioned them to be, they didn't really change physically for the rest of their lives. It was more of his role among the trio in general. That had been the one perennial thing in their lives: even now that they were almost grown up, each one of them had always had a distinct personality that stuck with them.

Yakko had always been the center of attention whether they were in school or in front of the cameras. Dot had gotten her own spotlight through being the cute little sister, and even as she grew older, her charm and charisma had never really vanished. All in all, Wakko had always felt like the odd one out – he was the weird one when they were filming the show, he was the weird when they were just out playing baseball with the other kids in the lot, and when he really thought about it, he'd probably been envisioned as the weird one by whoever drew him. It wasn't that that he was ashamed of it. He'd always fully embraced who he was and had no intention of changing it. It was just that in the long run, it had really influenced the way people treated him. Everybody always said that it wasn't easy being the middle sibling, and in his mind, Wakko might as well have been the epitome of it. The only thing he felt he'd really done a good job at lately was stopping Yakko and Dot from killing eachother.

"It doesn't matter", Wakko said finally. "I'll just eat on the plane."

"We're making a stop in New Mexico anyway", Dot replied. "The capital. Albuquerque, I think. We can grab a bite there."

"Santa Fe", Wakko said instantly. "Santa Fe's the capital of New Mexico."

"God, I can't believe you can still remember that", Dot said wistfully.

"It wasn't like it was that long ago", Wakko said. "Besides, they drilled the song into my head."

"I remember some stuff" Dot said. "Remember when we all went outside during the storm?"

The two of them ended up smiling again. It had happened shortly after they'd gotten the gig on _Animaniacs. _In the grand scheme of things, toons generally arrived at the Warner. Bros lot in two different ways – talent agents picked them up from the outside or they were drawn and raised there in studio's nursery before growing up and living in the dormitories. All three of the Warner siblings were drawn in the animation studio and had been raised with a movie lot practically being their backyard. They'd spent their early childhood running around, exploring every nook and cranny, occasionally getting into trouble with the executives, and becoming familiar faces to everybody that worked there. The three of them had been inseparable to the point that if you saw one of them running by, it was almost a fact that the other two would be soon to follow.

It was late spring when the city of Burbank was put under warning for an impending hurricane. Although most storms in California were simply swept out to the sea and only did minor damage, a heavy amount of media coverage had caused the studio to essentially go under lockdown and tell all of the toon children there to stay in the dormitories for the rest of the night. The plan had supposedly been Dot's idea, although the story had changed so many times that nobody was really sure anymore.

The plan was basically the three of them running through the storm, touching the base of the water tower, and running back without caught. Reacting on pure adrenaline and the fact that they weren't tired, the three of them had ran out into the night with the rain in a torrential downpour and lighting cracking above them. By the time they'd touched the tower and were running back, one of the other kids at their dormitory had told on them and two security guards had gone out in a golf cart to look for them. After being quickly caught and subsequently taken back to the dormitories, they were greeted with one of the producers screaming at them and diverging them to tears. He'd taken particular interest in Yakko, saying that he should have had better judgment for his the safety of his siblings. Although they'd been terrified at the time, they were able to look back at it now with a feeling of fondness that they didn't feel very often anymore.

"Yeah I remember," Wakko said after a short laugh. "I'm surprised they didn't cancel us right there."

"Leave it to Yakko to negotiate, huh?" Dot said. There was now a hint of anger in her voice. "Why do you think he's doing this?"

"He just wants to get us out of here," Wakko said quickly. He didn't fully trust his brother either, but when he really looked at it, he was really just doing the best he could.

"Please Wakko", Dot said firmly. "The older brother I know wouldn't just abandon his home because it seemed like a good idea to run away. He'd stay, and if the worst came, he'd go down fighting."

"He's just looking out for us," Wakko said harshly. "We all have our own problems, Dot. He's trying to be the responsible one."

Dot glared. "If he's doing the best he can, why did he make us lose our home. If I was him, I would have went down kicking and screaming to keep that place."

"And you would you be right there with him?" Wakko shot back.

"Ask the Dot Warner I used to know!" Dot cried loudly. "I haven't spoken to her in years either!"

"_Well, it's about time you did!"_ Wakko screamed.

It all happened so fast. There was an abrupt sound of a kettle hissing on a stove that cut through the air. It took Dot a minute to realize that it had emitted from deep within her brother. Hot steam spontaneously came leaking out of Wakko's ears and nose as he grinded his teeth at her, his face changing colors like a chameleon until it became a violent red. If the two of them hadn't been sitting away from everybody else, somebody would have noticed – maybe even airport security. Instead, it only happened for a split-second in time before Wakko's face fleshed back to normal and the smoke simply vanished in the air like it had never been there at all.

"Woah," Wakko muttered.

The two of them sat there in silence for what seemed like a whole minute. They glanced around cautiously, checking to see if anybody had seen what had just happened. Both of them breathed a sigh of relief when they realized that nobody sitting in the waiting area had reacted at all. An overweight woman sitting across from them scanned her eyes through a newspaper with rapid eyes, completely unaware of what had just happened. The two Warners stared at her for a long time, watching her sitting there alone as she flipped her way through the pages and didn't even glance at them.

"Did I make you do that?" Dot said worriedly.

"Yeah," Wakko muttered. He had absolutely no idea what to say. "I…I think you did."

"That could have been bad", Dot said quietly.

"It's not like I would have hurt anyone here," Wakko replied. "I wouldn't have done anything."

"No," Dot said gently. "But you could've hurt me. And if you didn't stop yourself, you could have torn this whole airport down to the ground."

"I didn't mean it." Wakko sighed. It had happened so fast that he hadn't even seen it coming. "Really, I'm sorry. The last thing we need right now is for all of us to get arrested because I did something stupid like toon stuff."

"It's my fault." Dot replied. "I forgot you've been losing control easily lately."

"It's fine." Wakko said. "It's why I take my pills anyway. Besides, I shouldn't really have argued with you like that anyway."

"You had the right to," Dot sighed. "A lot's been going on anyway. Not just for me, but for all of us. I'm really sorry I haven't been home that often to visit you guys. It's been complicated."

"Don't worry," Wakko replied. "I sort of like being alone anyway."

Neither of them said anything for a while after that. Wakko watched as his sister casually went back to reading her magazine, burying whatever she was thinking deep in her mind. He stared at her for a few seconds before going back to absently drumming his fingers on his knees. He glanced at the white gloves on his hands for awhile, stared up at the fat woman with the newspaper, and then stared back at his white gloves again. He wondered if the woman had any idea what it was like to have to wear those gloves, to have to control yourself every second of every day just because of the way you were born. Then he realized immediately that she couldn't. She was human – half of the people in the terminal were and even if they could leave the city too just to support toons and think they were doing something, they would never have any perception of what it was really like. In the back of his mind, he started to wonder if humans thought the same thing.

"So how's the music business going?" Dot asked suddenly. It couldn't have been a more obvious effort to get him talking again.

"Good," Wakko lied quickly. He didn't want to admit that he'd been grudgingly playing his keyboard on the street recently. Performing at a club or even considering starting a band didn't appeal to him for more than a few reasons. "It pays the bills. I mean, it _helps_ pay the bills I guess. I'd be playing a lot less if Yakko's radio show didn't get shut down."

"Well, that's the reason we lost the tower anyway," Dot said with a smirk. "Are you thinking of playing live? You can probably find a few places out in New York that would hire you. I could probably get a lot of people to come see you."

Before he could respond, a pleasant female voiced echoed out of every intercom near the waiting area:

"We are now boarding first-class passengers for Lansing Flight 378 to New York City. Please have your boarding pass ready."

"Damn it," Dot said exasperatedly. "What's taking Yakko so lo-

"Have you seen my bag?"

The two of them glanced up to see where the voice was coming from. They saw a figure wearing a heavy coat had hastily appeared in front of them, his face shadowed partly by his fedora but still looking domineering and visibly upset about something. It took Wakko a moment to realize that this was the same toon that had brushed into his brother only minutes before he'd left to get his medicine. The stranger seemed to be making a conscious effort to hide his face and the only identifiable think that really stuck out was an orange duckbill. The toon's voice sounded eerily familiar to Wakko and he couldn't decide where he'd heard it before.

Wakko stared. "What are you talking about?"

"My bag, Bosko," the toon shot back. "I left it right here. Where'd you move it?"

"There was nothing here when we sat down", Dot snapped. "Leave my brother alone."

It seemed for a moment that the toon was about to say something else. He glared down at them like he was caught in a great mental struggle, indecisive of exactly what he wanted to say to put the two of them in their place. Feeling a bit bothered, Wakko glanced over obscurely at the squadron of airport security guards directing the oncoming floor of traffic coming out of the terminal and sending people to their gates. He wondered if any of them would be willing to break up a fight if the stranger decided to attack them – then he wondered if any of them had supported the bill to begin with. The whole situation felt unnerving to him, and by the time he turned back, he was surprised to see that the stranger in the fedora had simply decided to walk away from them. He was shaking his head and seemed to be mumbling something under his breath. Dot, still sitting next to him, now looked like she had ignored the toon completely and had returned to flipping through her magazine.

"_Weird people around here",_ Wakko thought uncomfortably. Then he shuddered for some reason. Even later he didn't know exactly why he did.

There was suddenly the sound of grinding asphalt coupled with the thundering boom of an engine. He glanced over at the waiting area's glass window just in time to see a plane's tail vanish into the sky. The room suddenly began to felt unnaturally small to him and he felt the uncanny urge to look around at everything. Dot was still flipping through her magazine and seemed to have dismissed him entirely. The fat woman sitting near them was still flipping through her magazine, her beady eyes enlarging like pinhole cameras every time she saw something interesting. Wakko watched her read for what seemed like a whole minute. Then he started to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Then his fingers drumming on his knees again. He retaliated with what his doctor had told him and thought back to the memory. _On top of the water tower. Fourth Of July. Listening to the crickets. Fireworks…_

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of another plane taking off. This time he saw the whole thing vanish into the clouds until it might as well have never taken off at all. It gave Wakko and odd feeling and he couldn't decide exactly how it felt. This was their home – this was the place that they'd spent their whole life and now they were leaving just because they were scared. Part of him made him sort of wistful, but the other half made him feel almost dirty. For the first time in a long time, Wakko really didn't feel like a kid anymore. I didn't matter to him if they stayed in Burbank or not. If it came down to it, the three of them could have fled to Alaska and it wouldn't have made a difference. It was almost like he was thinking like a child, but Yakko and Dot were the only family that he'd ever known. He just wanted the three of them to be together.

"The man of the hour," Dot said suddenly.

It took Wakko a second to realize what she was talking about. Yakko was walking out of the crowd with his knapsack slung over his shoulder and a vial of pills in his hand. He gave a halfhearted wave as he walked up to them and tossed them over to his brother. Wakko caught them with ease and gave a sigh of relief before quickly shoving them into his pocket, flashing a grin at his brother in response.

"Thanks bro," Wakko said. "I owe you one."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Yakko replied with a grin. "The last thing we need is to for you to crash the plane down with an anvil or something."

Wakko smiled back but couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. He wondered if his brother had any right to know what had happened minutes before. It seemed a cemented fact that in Yakko's mind, things couldn't go any other way but forward. He would be quick to say that his brother was getting better everyday and he was only taking the medications out of habit. The countless doctor's visits and various prescriptions had only been progress in his eyes, and too stubborn to see it any other way, he'd even taken it as a sign to try to get Wakko out of the house a few times. He would occasionally drag him out to clubs or bars in downtown Burbank and try to introduce him to people. Wakko would nod politely at every person he met, doing the bare minimum of what it took to show he was interested and even trying to crack a joke here and there.

Still, despite the dates and parties that his brother could set him up with, despite the frequent urges for him to get out into the real world, the facts couldn't be clearer. Wakko knew that he'd seen what his brother's eyes – the same eyes that had always looked out for him – had simply failed to see. Things might have been different when they were kids, but when you got to the raw meat of things now, they were entirely different people.

"Why were you so late?" Dot asked.

"Big line at the pharmacy," Yakko said quickly. "I ran into some people that wanted to cha-

The pleasant female voiced blared out of the intercom a second time:

"We are now boarding the middle section for Lansing Flight 378 to New York City."

"Lead the way brother of mine," Dot said grimly.

The three of them quickly gathered their things together and started to leave the waiting are and walk toward the door that led to the jet way. They watched as the attendants quickly unfastened the hinges on the door and opened it like an iron porthole on a ship, opening the view of the enclosed bridge that connected to the airplane. They did it unusually quickly and seemed to be in a frantic hurry to get something done. The woman behind the gate's desk had a smile on her face that seemed arguably forced as she scanned her eyes across the crowd. Wakko started to feel anxious and considered taking one of his pills. He decided to save it for before takeoff. The three Warners quickly hurried into the line just as the first passengers began to show their tickets to the attendants and file down the long hallway toward their final destination.

"Everyone at the airport's being weird," Dot said. "They're hurrying everyone around. All the attendants are, I mean."

"Big crowd today", Yakko noted. "They have a lot to do."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Wakko asked gently. "You really haven't seemed like yourself lately."

The three of them reached the front desk in front of the gate before Yakko even had a chance to respond. The woman stared at them with hollow eyes as she glanced almost robotically at their boarding passes before handing them back to them. She was wearing a bright blue uniform and her smile seemed almost plastered on her face, her teeth perfect and almost radioactively white. She grinned down at them like she was a poster woman for an airline brochure. It was a strange smile and to Wakko it didn't seem any different from his brother's – it was the smile of somebody who knew more than they were letting on.

"Seats F4, G6, and E1", the woman said cheerfully.

"Wait," Wakko said suddenly. "We're not sitting together?"

"It'll be fine," Yakko said. "It's just a plane ride. Take a nap and try to take it easy."

They started to walk down the long tunnel toward the plane but only made it roughly five steps before they realized something was wrong. Yakko and Wakko both turned around at the same time to see that Dot hadn't moved an inch down the jet bridge with them. She was standing in the doorway with her luggage and staring at them with a desperate look on her face, almost like a final plea for her voice to be listened to. There was a quiet murmur of commotion going on behind her, and by the look of things, she was doing a rather effective job of holding up the line.

"Hey, somebody tell that puppy kid to move!" someone called out.

"Coming?" Yakko asked.

"We could stay, Yakko," Dot said firmly. "We could stay even if things get worse. We don't have to leave just because somebody signed a piece of paper. We don't have to run away just because we're scared things might get worse. Let's let them get worse and see what happens"

It was one of the heaviest silences of all three of their lives. The sound of people arguing behind the Warner sister mellowed out until they could barely hear it at all. All they heard was the distant thrumming of the plane's engine at the other end of the hallway. It was like the two different viewpoints that they'd been arguing about for weeks had suddenly drawn lines on the jet bridge. Dot stood in the doorway with a defiant look on her face, staring down at Yakko with eyes that were no longer angry – in fact, they had an oddly desperate look to them that her brothers hadn't seen in a very long time. It was almost like she was their little sister again. Yakko stared back at her with an unreadable face, oddly lost for words. Wakko felt like he was caught between them and felt his eyes go back and forth between his two siblings, unsure of which side to take. The silence seemed to go on for a very long time before one of them worked up the courage to speak.

"Guys," Wakko said finally. He tried to sound as casual as he could but he knew it came out as awkward. "Look, maybe we should just sit down and have a talk-

"We can talk about it in New York," Yakko said finally.

His words hung heavily in the air and the imaginary line was cut. There was no question of where they were going anymore. The three of them were leaving Burbank and never coming back. Dot stared at her older brother with a look of blatant disbelief. Then she huffed, glared at him, and started to walk down the jet bridge wheeling her luggage behind her. The mob that had formed behind Dot was suddenly set free as the rest of the middle section passengers started to walk down the bridge behind her, clearly annoyed with the family drama holding them up. It wasn't until Dot had walked over and was only inches away from her brother that she spoke:

"What happened my older brother, Yakko?"

"Let's just go," Yakko said hurriedly. He seemed to be making a conscious effort not to look at her and almost looked embarrassed. "The sooner we get there the better."

The three Warners followed the crowd down the jet bridge until they saw the doorway of the plane, occasionally getting nasty looks from the other passengers because of the hold up they'd made. A couple of attendants were standing there by the cockpit and greeting passengers as they stepped on, although a great deal of them chose not to smile back. They looked strange and artificial to Wakko with their smiles and their blue uniforms and he turned away from them to listen the thundering of the engine beneath them. Everything was so real. It wasn't a question anymore – it wasn't even an argument. The three of them were really leaving California. He looked briefly at both Yakko and Dot standing beside him, but neither of them spoke. They were both lost in their own internal conflicts, and in the long run, Wakko supposed he wasn't much different.

"Good luck," said one of the attendants as they reached the doorway to the plane. Judging by her smile, she and the woman at the desk might as well have been sisters.

"Thanks," Wakko said awkwardly. He almost thought that he hadn't heard her correctly.

"This is going to be a long trip," Dot muttered under her breath.

And so leaving everything they knew behind, the three of them stepped onto the plane.

It was seven-twenty in the morning and Lansing Flight 347 was right on time.


	3. Chapter 3

Half an hour into the flight.

The reason that Dot Warner liked traveling, as she would tell anyone willing to listen, wasn't because she had any kind of destination in mind. She considered this as she sat in a widow seat in the middle section of Lansing Flight 347, staring out the window at the mountains of white clouds billowing over the sky underneath her like a wide canvas of arctic tundra. The engine thrummed as gentle turbulence caused the plane to rock and settle, cutting its wings through the sky in a diagonal course across the southern United States.

The last of the early morning was gone now, and sitting there in her seat thirty-thousand feet in the air, Dot was able to stare out through the glass window at the pink and orange hues of the California sunrise behind them. She scanned her mind for a word to describe how she was feeling, but after awhile, her search turned up dry. This was it. Dot Warner, at seventeen, was leaving her childhood home behind and never coming back.

A man's voice suddenly blared out of the plane's intercom:

"We apologize for the turbulence we experienced during takeoff. The captain has turned off the fasten seatbelt sign. You are now free to move about the cabin. Our flight attendants will be serving beverages momentarily."

Dot immeadidly unbuckled her seatbelt but didn't get up. It was definitely the journey, she thought simply as she reclined back in her seat. It was definitely the journey that she enjoyed and not the destination. The idea of going places was what really appealed to her. The arrival would mean that she would have to leave the plane and end up at some airport on the other side of the country; the arrival would mean that she would once again have a reason to be angry; more than anything else though, the arrival would mean that she would have to talk to her older brother again.

She sighed and rested her head back on her pillow, closing her eyes and trying to forget everything around her. Her seating partners consisted of a disgruntled Asian man in the aisle seat who'd spent the duration of the flight so far reading a fresh copy of the _Burbank Times _and a toon gorilla to her left who'd fallen asleep almost immeadidly upon takeoff. The gorilla was another drawback, seeing how she snored in an almost rhymethic fashion and smelled nauseatingly to Dot like cheap perfume. She'd tried her best to ignore both of them, and after awhile, it had actually worked quite well. Dot was accomplished at ignoring things that displeased her, and while far from an optimist, she'd found a sense of inner peace in keeping some things to herself. At the age of seventeen, she believed herself to be independent and was more than keen to use it to her advantage.

She glanced around toward the aisle and caught sight of Wakko sleeping in the row across from her, his head slouched down on the armrest with his long tongue hanging out of his mouth. Dot couldn't help but smile. She wasn't sure exactly where Yakko was, but she guessed that he must have been sitting several rows behind her. The plane itself was an uneven blend of humans and toons, most of them deciding to leave Burbank with their own personal agenda. She glanced at the window for a moment and considered opening it again, perhaps managing to get one last look at California before it was gone forever. She didn't though; she was well aware that it probably would have been too much for her take in.

"_This is it,"_ she thought again as she clenched her armrests. It was a sentence that didn't really mean anything, but she kept thinking it over and over. _"This is really it. I hope you're happy, Yakko."_

Dot closed her eyes and tried her best to clear her mind. Memories ping-ponged back and forth like clockwork; sitting in the studio's nursery with Wakko crying about something nearby when she was just an infant; running and playing baseball with the other kids on the lot on that dirt patch near the music department; countless late night rehearsals they'd done before filming their show the following morning.

In the back of her mind, she could remember something one of the makeup artists had said to her when she was little. It was something she thought about very often, and in an odd way, it was comforting. They had been behind schedule and the woman had been hastily doing her hair and splashing on makeup. She'd been giving some kind of lecture, although Dot only remembered bits and parts of it now. It was only one particular part of it that had really stuck with her. "Beauty fades with age," the woman had said as she powdered Dot's nose. "But a girl could be cute forever." Even though she'd been very young at the time, Dot had decided this was probably true. It made much more sense to be cute than beautiful, and in the long run, you probably had a lot more fun that way.

Dot smiled at the thought of it. It had been easy being young and thinking being cute was the only thing to worry about. Back then, the only issue had been not getting a daily compliment or two about how pretty her new outfit looked. She'd been naïve when she was little, sure, maybe even a bit of a ditz when it came down to it, but it didn't change the fact that things had been better back then. She remembered when she hadn't questioned her love for her brothers and it was just something that had been there unconditionally; back then, there hadn't been anything like private schools, or plane rides, or bills to worry about.

"_We were sheltered though,"_ Dot thought glumly. _"You can't say we weren't sheltered."_

It wasn't that she'd ever been unsatisfied with her life; she'd just always felt that there was more to it. Outside the lot, in corners of the world she knew she would see one day, there were people taking romantic cruises down canals and falling in love. There were people traveling across the mountainsides on horseback and breathing in real air over valleys rather than the smog of buses and taxis. There were even people in the seediest parts of the seediest cities begging for change and sleeping in the rain every night, staring up at the sky in the summer when the stars came out. There was a whole unexplored avenue in her life that was just waiting for her outside of Burbank.

Those people – the aforementioned ones that were on the mountainside, the canals, or even the grimy streets – were the people feeling what life was really about. They were the ones that were actually getting some kind of emotion out of their life – some kind of adventure. Dot Warner, on the contrary, hadn't lived an adventure; she'd lived a façade of a life that had been set between the rehearsal hall and the costume department.

Perhaps that was why, at several times in her childhood, that she'd considered just running away. Not necessarily with the promise of never coming back, but just to get some fresh air and see some sights. She'd thought of running down the sidewalk in the sunset outside the lot, faster with every pump and palpitation of her heart, maybe even reaching the California shore before dusk where she would sit in the sand and watch the sun rise over the water. She would go to far places, fall in love, and someday, return to tell stories of everything she'd seen. She would live a real life – a dangerous one where she'd actually have to find a way to take care of herself.

That was only shortly before Yakko had made the private school proposal, and looking back at it now, this angered her more than anything else. She wasn't sure exactly when he'd done it, but it must have been relatively close to the time their show had been cancelled. Although the studio had taken a good portion of their earnings, all three of the Warners had made a good fortune through their six-year gig on _Animaniacs._

At the time, Dot couldn't have helped but have a bit of sympathy for her older brother. It had happened over a long period of time, but around the age of seventeen, he'd seemed to have underwent a metamorphosis overnight into being the only parental figure they would ever had. It wasn't something that she liked to think about often, but on the few occasions that she did, it made Dot sad. She pictured her brother the way a caterpillar matured into a butterfly inside of a cocoon. Some way or another, it almost seemed like somebody had let him out of his cocoon too early; so early in fact, that he'd had no idea what to do with himself when he'd come out.

The facts couldn't be clearer. Somewhere down the line, Yakko had done what he's promised both of his siblings he'd never do: he'd grown up and stopped being their brother. Part of it made Dot furious, perhaps even a little bit reminiscent and sad when she looked back at it, but for the most part it just made her feel more determined than ever. She would get up early in the morning and stare out over the water tower's balcony at the skyline over Burbank, wondering what was outside and wondering even more how long it would take until she got a chance to go there. If her brother refused to get out and live his life, she would have to do enough living for the two of them.

Yakko's first order of business as a parent had been pouring thousands of dollars into Dot's education. Seeing how she was the only one in the family who hadn't finished her compulsory education yet, he'd gone through thousands of phonebooks and brochures until he'd settled on a prestigious place called The Monroe School several cities away.

The more she thought about it, it still seemed vague to her if the place had even been a school at all. During her time there, she'd heard them call it a university, an academy, and even an institute. It was almost like simply saying the word, "school", struck them as obscene gesture, going hand in hand with the other hundreds of public schools in the California area; the same ones that the professors and the dean had said were dirty and unprofessional compared to The Monroe School. The secretary in the dean's office had told her that the idea of a capable girl like Dot associating herself with people at a public school was obscene. Not just obscene, but exploitive and even _pornographic_. That was actually the word that she'd used. The whole concept had made Dot want to throw up.

The school's brochure had shown hundreds of smiling rich kids in uniforms, the boys riding horses or standing like statues in military uniform and the girls sitting on the stoops of their dormitories grinning idiotically at the camera. Dot had humored her brother in the beginning, going on how about how she would try her best in school. The childish part of her almost wanted to please him, to show that she was capable of doing anything, but the other half of her - the girl that stood on the water tower's balcony and wondered what was out there - couldn't have been more frustrated. It was then that she had decided that she needed to take drastic action.

Dot Warner had lasted two weeks at The Monroe School before boarding a Greyhound bus back to Burbank, throwing her school uniform into a Salvation Army donation box outside a bar, and staying at a motel for two days. If it weren't for the fact that Yakko had gotten a phone call from the school and filed a missing person's report, she probably would have stayed longer.

"_That showed him,"_ Dot thought firmly. _"It's not like everyone can live up to his expectations anyway."_

She decided quickly that she wasn't going to be able to sleep on the plane. She sat up irritably and accidentally jabbed the gorilla sitting next to her with her elbow. Dot watched as she stirred for a second before grumbling and turning to her with tired eyes. She suddenly smelled the cheap perfume on her stronger than ever now.

"Watch out sweetie", the gorilla growled. "Close quarters, you know?

Dot glared. "Bite me."

The gorilla gave her a fierce look before turning away and going back to sleep. Dot herself stared at her for a long time before turning away and glancing back at the aisle. Wakko was still asleep. She was suddenly overcome with the strange urge to talk to him and wished he would wake up, reassurance that there was still somebody remotely normal flying with her on Lansing Flight 347. She still couldn't tell exactly where Yakko was, nor did she really care anymore.

A voice interrupted her thoughts:

"Excuse me, coming through."

Dot glanced up toward the aisle just in time to see an exasperated toon with purple fur pass into view, a skunk's bushy tail following soon after. If she'd looked up any slower she wouldn't have seen it, but after a quick look at the face making its way down the aisle, Dot surreally felt that she might as well have just seen a ghost. At first it could have been a coincidence, but seeing how she'd seen the same face almost every day when she was little, the idea that she could have been wrong didn't even occur to her.

Dot stared. "Fifi, is that you?"

"Dot?" Fifi La Fume said as she turned around in the aisle to face her. Her face suddenly brightened up considerably. "Oh my god, I haven't seen you in so long. How have you been? Are you going to New York too?"

"Sort of," Dot said. She wasn't really sure where to begin.

The two girls stared at each other for a bit, nearly lost for words at the utter strangeness of seeing each other again. Dot glanced at her friend up and down, almost bemused by how little she had changed throughout the years.

While it was a common fact that toons never grew past how their creator envisioned them, it still struck Dot as somewhat of a surprise that her childhood friend had essentially appeared in front of her eyes. The only thing that looked different about Fifi was the way she carried herself. With the picturesque image in Dot's mind was of all of her friends smiling and playing baseball out in the lot after school, the facts of reality a world away from them, she couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved by the haunted look on Fifi's face. Although she was smiling, it was a cynical, sad smile of somebody who'd been through a lot and grown up because of it. Dot wondered what her own face looked like now.

"Déjà vu huh?" Fifi said with a smirk.

"Big time," Dot laughed. "It's really great to see you Fifi. I'm sorry I haven't talked to you in so long. I mean, I would have hung out but a lot of stuff's been going on for me. What have you and the girls been up to?"

"Not much," Fifi said shortly. "I haven't talked to Babs in ages, Elmyra moved away to Oregon with Max last October, and I think Shirley's actually coming out on the next flight. I'm supposed to meet up with her at a hotel in New York tonight. Anyway, I'm not really much for show business anymore. I don't think any of the old gang is really". She paused. "Long story short, I have a job at the Prime Time Café on Magnolia Boulevard. I'm a waitress. I figured I'd take it easy for awhile. What about you guys?" It seemed like she'd just noticed Wakko sleeping on the other side of the aisle. "Your brother's here too!"

"We're doing fine," Dot replied. She felt like there were more than a few things that didn't need to be said. "I've just been trying to enjoy myself I guess. Live a little. I'd probably be doing fine if Yakko hadn't opened his mouth on live radio."

"I heard about that," Fifi said. Her sad smile still hadn't left her face. "Silence is golden never really applied to him, huh?

"I guess not," Dot said. She paused and craned her neck toward the aisle. "Y'know, I think he's actually a few seats back if you want to talk to him."

That was when one of the stewardesses quickly hurried up beside them. She was a plump woman with freckles and blonde hair and a blue uniform that seemed like it was a size to small for her. She approached them cautiously and Dot couldn't help but get the same feeling from her that she'd gotten from the attendant at the desk who'd checked their boarding passes. She felt like a newcomer in a foreign place where everybody was in on some kind of dirty secret.

"Excuse me, honey?" the attendant said quickly. She seemed to be making a conscious effort to smile. "Can you please go back to your seat? We have a crowded flight and we're trying to keep everything in order."

"Oh, don't worry it's fine," Fifi said quickly. "I'm just talking to my friend. I just ran in to her. We grew up togeth-

"Please sweetie," the attendant said. " I'm just trying to do what I was told."

It was at this moment that Dot's thoughts were cemented that something very strange going on. Not only was there no sense in what the woman was saying, but the fact that the captain had turned of the fasten seatbelt sign only minutes ago made it even more odd. She could hear the rickety sound of the beverage cart several rows back and wondered if the woman pushing it was in on it too. Then she wondered if she was just being paranoid. She glanced at Fifi unsurely, almost expecting her to do something – she didn't. Fifi gave the stewardess a long and quizzical look before simply turning to shrug at Dot.

"Alright," Fifi said awkwardly. "Later Dot. It was nice to see you. We'll catch up in New York."

"What was that for?" Dot asked angrily the moment that her friend was gone.

She directed her attention at the stewardess who was still standing there, giving her a gentle, almost motherly look. Her smile had a strange and appraising feel to it, almost like she was complimenting herself on a job well done. It seemed for a moment that she was going to respond, but instead, she simply shook her head and walked off down the aisle muttering something under her breathe. For a moment Dot wanted to call her out on the injustice of it – something that was hardly new to her - but considering how making a scene was what got them on the plane in the first place, she didn't see any sense in it.

She instinctively glanced over at Wakko again across from her. He was still sleeping. She sighed to herself, laying back against her cheap pillow and closing her eyes, doing the best to follow suit with her brother and calm down. She pictured herself on a mountaintop somewhere on a horse and breathing fresh air – maybe even in a canal somewhere in her mental image of what Venice looked like. When this showed no sign of working, she reluctantly opened the window and started to stare out at the clouds again.

And so Dot Warner thought dimly, _"An hour and a half to go."_

* * *

Fifty minutes into the flight.

"Can I get you anything?" the stewardess asked.

"A sedative would be nice", Yakko Warner replied absently.

He was sitting several rows behind his sister near the very back of the plane's middle section. The stewardesses had been making their rounds for the past few minutes, gently working their way toward the tail section of the plane. The beverage cart had parked just outside his row now and seemed to only carry the bare essentials of what a plane needed, liquor being noticeably absent on the tray of spring water and sodas. Pretzals, cookies, and peanuts hung from the side of the cart like overipe fruit hanging from trees.

In Yakko's mind, the lack of liquor wasn't a probably though – it simply removed the temptation. He tried not to drink a lot, especially since most of the time it just alleviated his worries. The gig he'd had at he radio station had made this hard with the holiday parties and late night outings, but for some reason, something about drinking didn't appeal to him as much as it should've. The image of Yakko Warner sitting at a bar with a couple of old friends made him feel oddly different, almost like a cementation that he was grown up now. It was a strange thing to be grown up when you really looked at it, because in the end, you didn't feel any more capable of dealing with your problems than you did as a kid. Your voice mattered more, something Yakko always took into account, but there was really no diving line between childhood and adulthood. If there was, he just hadn't reached it yet.

"A few days ago," the stewardess said sourly to Yakko's remark. "The best I could have remedied you with is vodka. But with the airline's budget cuts depriving us down to saltine crackers and pretzels, we'll have to settle for ginger ale. You're okay with ginger ale, aren't you?"

Her words hung heavily in the air and Yakko wasn't sure what to say. In the past weeks, he'd gotten in more than a few fights with a lot of people – family, friends, and strangers – because he'd simply said a lot of things without thinking. He stared at the stewardess for a moment, unsure of what to say next, and was surprised when a small smile appeared on her face.

"It's fine," the stewardess said finally. "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm Carol."

He did his best to smile back. "I'm Yakko."

"I know you," Carol said. "My niece watched your show when she was little. She's going into college next year"

"You're obliged to be starstruck."

"Believe it or not," Carol said with her eyes twinkling. "I didn't come for an autograph. I'm really just here to do my job and pass out the complimentary peanuts. Anything I can do you for?"

"Ginger ale's fine," Yakko said quickly.

He watched as Carol quickly rummaged through the beverage cart and poured a vial of ginger ale into a plastic cup. She placed it on his tray and offered him a smile. He noticed that even when he took the first sip, she didn't go away with her beverage cart and simply stood there watching him. It wasn't until she finally made the offhand effort to start talking to him that he understood what she was curious about.

"So you're leaving too then?" Carol asked finally.

Yakko couldn't help but smile. "Aren't you supposed to be a stewardess?"

"Sorry to get personal," Carol sighed. "Really, I am. I'm just wondering. I've really heard a lot of similar stories on this flight since we took off. I just wanted to get your two cents.

"Yeah, I'm leaving," Yakko said shortly. "Everyone on this flight is, I guess. My brother, my sister, and me, we're all leaving together. They're sitting up there."

"To tell you the truth," Carol sighed. "I really don't appreciate what's going on any more than you do. Just because a couple of people up in town hall can put a stamp on a bill doesn't mean I have to agree with it. Most of the people here are like that, you know. If it makes you feel any better, Lansing Airlines is on your side".

"Thanks," Yakko said. It was really the first time he'd felt sincere all day.

"Enjoy your drink," Carol said brightly. "Keep your chin up.

He watched as she vanished down the aisle with her beverage cart. Feeling the best he'd felt all day, Yakko took another sip from his ginger ale and stared past his old seating partner and out the window. They were still somewhere in southern California and would probably be arriving in New Mexico in a few short hours. From there, it was just a matter of hopping on to the direct flight to New York. He wanted to feel proud of it, accomplished that they'd gotten this far, but he didn't. In fact, he really didn't feel anything at all.

He hadn't really spent the duration of the flight thinking about his problems. He'd tried to think about them as little as possible, almost trying to put them behind him. He was, after all, leaving California behind. Part of him made him want to feel guilty, but the other half felt liberated in a dirty kind of way like a murderer burying a body, knowing it was only a matter of time before somebody found it and brought it back to haunt him. He wondered if that was how Dot had started to think about him a few years ago. Either way though, it wasn't her choice to decide. When you looked at the grand scheme of things, the three of them relocating to New York was really the best choice logically. They'd be out of harm's way, they'd be away from the ban, and as far as rumors went, it seemed like the state of New York was likely going to veto the bill when it arrived.

"_You're still running though,"_ Yakko's mind gibbered at him. _"It doesn't change the fact that you're running."_

"Hey, Is this seat taken?"

Yakko glanced up to see what appeared to be a toon beaver standing in the aisle now. His fur was a tanned yellow and a purple nose jutted out from his face above a wide pair of white teeth. His voice was dry and he had a cool and confident demeanor to him, the look of somebody who was relatively unfazed by almost everything. At the same he looked somewhat spacey and was smiling at Yakko for no particular reason, giving him a deep stare and studying him up and down the way a surgeon would look down at a patient on an operating table.

"No, it's been empty since we took off," Yakko replied. "Why?

"Well monsieur," the beaver began as he sat down in the seat beside him. "Apparently taking an open seat to sit by your brother is now a blatant crime in the eyes of airlines everywhere. They stare at me for a little while, then they yell at me, and then they tell me to move up front to the seat that I was assigned. Something about how I was causing everyone inconveniences. I figured I'd just roll with it. We have enough _problèmes _around here anyway, don't we?

"Hey, I'll drink to that," Yakko said with a grin.

"Is that ginger ale?" the beaver asked.

"Yeah it is," Yakko replied. Then he paused. "The only problem is that I just remembered I hate it."

"I'll take it then," the beaver said. "My ears start to pop if I don't drink when I'm flying. I'm Norbert Foster Beaver. Call me Norb."

"Yakko Warner."

"Well Yakko, _le plaisir est le mien_."

Yakko watched as the beaver took the cup of ginger ale from his tray and took a sip of it before placing it down on his own. He made the mental note that, like most of the toons in Burbank, Norb looked unusually familiar to him. Considering that it was a city essentially built around show business, the place where you could become a star overnight, it was hard to find a toon who hadn't starred in at least a few commercials nonetheless an entire show. The majority of toons who weren't involved in show business in Burbank lived in the slums downtown where gang and bar fights were someone of a daily occurrence. Yakko then frowned when he realized that not only was this the exact place that his sister had been hanging out in the recent years, but it was also likely where she'd picked up half of her boyfriends. For a second Yakko had the urge to crane his neck and see where his sister was sitting, but then he remembered that she'd made it her personal oath not to speak to him.

"So", Norb said suddenly. "Are you from around here?

"Yeah, all my life," Yakko replied. "I grew up with my sibs on the Warner Bros. lot.

"Looks like we're neighbors," Norb said brightly. "I grew up on the lot down on Olive Street. I've been living out in Burbank since I was seven."

"I was drawn out here," Yakko said shortly. "So that means you have a family?

"Yeah," Norb said cheerfully. "My parents live upstate and my little sisters go to high school in San Francisco. My brother Dag and I have just been living down here in Burbank for the past couple of years. It's familiar territory, I guess. It feels more like home than anywhere else. What's wrong, feeling homesick already?

"No," Yakko said. "It's just…I mean, it's not like every toon in California can say they grew up with a family. You're either drawn or you're born, and in your case it's the later. I hope you know that you're a minority around here, Norb.

The beaver looked confused. "What do you mean?

"Well, I mean, you weren't drawn. You actually have parents. Don't you think that makes you lucky?"

"Oh," Norb said shortly. He paused for a moment and furrowed his eyebrows in deep thought. "Yeah. I guess you're right, Warner. At the same time though, it's not like that makes me superhuman or anything. I could lecture you to death about how toon reproduction works. You can write a book on the stuff they drilled into my head at med school. All in all though, it's kind of a losing battle. The way we're born is so different than humans that you pretty much have to create a new hospital wing for it, and even when you do, you really only have half of an idea what's going on. Not even those top notch, _psycho-logi-cale_ egghead scientists can figure it out, can they?"

"There's theories," Yakko noted. "I mean, they have some idea. It's not like they're blind to it."

"Sure", Norb said. "You could say that. But in the end, theories are just theories. There's no textbook explanation for how we exist. They can't figure it out. No monsieur, they can't. They can figure out why the sky is blue, how rainbows can form after a storm, but in the grand scheme of things, they can't put their heads together and figure out how drawing toons works, can they?"

"I guess you've find the eighth wonder of the world", Yakko said with a smile.

Norb grinned back. "Now we're getting somewhere, aren't we? Of course, you're not wrong. They have their theories. Some say it's about parallel dimensions, others say it's something to do with amoebas and chemicals, and religious quacks say it's proof that there's an afterlife. Just for the record Yakko, I don't need an explanation for why people like you and me exist. I'm just happy to be alive. I really don't need a book written about it." Then he paused again, taking a sip of ginger ale before continuing. "A topic that I do think would make a good _novella_, on the other hand, is this silly ban that everyone's talking about."

"You should have watched the news last night", Yakko said. "My brother said they made some kind of speech about it."

"Sure, sure", Norb said quickly. "They can throw out anything they want. They can yak about population control and cleaning up the good state of California, but it's all just filler when you really look at it. They don't want to explain the real reason for why they're doing this. They're too scared. There's something they don't want to tell us."

"It doesn't matter why they did it", Yakko said. "The point is that they signed it."

To this Norb didn't seem to have any kind of reply. He retired himself to a sort shrug and turning to stare out at the aisle, occasionally taking a sip from his cup of ginger ale. He seemed to smile on and off for no real reason and his eyes seemed to scan from passengers to passenger, studying them the same way someone would retrieve information out of a book.

Realizing that there was still another person sitting near him, Yakko craned his neck to look at the old man sleeping by the window seat. He was still sleeping and almost wheezing through the noticible hole in his throat, showing no sign of waking up to chat any time soon. He sighed and let his head fall back into the pillow behind him, breathing deeply doing his best to relax. He didn't need to talk about the ban; the last time he did, they'd ended up losing their house. It was almost unsavory territory for him, something he didn't want to venture into anytime soon, so the way things were going, it was the last thing he wanted to think about.

"But what about what you said about your parents?" Yakko said in a quick effort to start their conversation again. "I mean, what you said before about your family? They just packed their things and drove you up here to throw you on television?

"I guess you could say that," Norb said with a wry laugh. He'd turned away from the other passengers and didn't seem to have a reason to stare anymore. "Out of the goodness in their hearts too.

"So that's that? What attracted them up here? I mean, did you just want to make a career out of getting anvils dropped on your head?

"Nah," Norb said. "It wasn't like that. I would've figured an _in-tee-lectual _such as yourself would have guessed that toons who aren't in show business don't really get that far. No, when you're a toon, you're pretty much typecast to getting up in front of a camera, aren't you? It's like performing runs in you like hot oil. The way my parents figured it, my brother and I had potential. That's a funny word, isn't it? _Poh-ten-shial. _I don't think anybody even knows what it really means. I think they could have found a rock that had just as much potential as me and it wouldn't have made a difference to them to be honest."

"You must have had some talent going for you," Yakko pointed out. "I mean, I know those hotshot executives pretty much pick people off the street these days. If they didn't people like Keanu Reeves and Tara Reid would be out of work. But you must have impressed them if they cast you right away."

"Yeah, I guess," Norb said. He stopped talking for a moment before his eyes lit up, overwhelmed with some kind of new idea.  
"Hey do you want to see some real potential?"

It happened on the spur of the moment and there was no time to stop him. Yakko could only gawk as Norb quickly grabbed the small airline cup of ginger ale sitting on the tray in front of him. For a second it seemed like he was going to bring it to his mouth to drink it, but instead, something entirely different happened – something that either very brave or very stupid. Smiling ear to ear, Norb tossed the cup of ginger ale into the air until it came down bouncing like a rubber ball on the tip of his finger, not even a drop of liquid spilling anywhere. Yakko stared in horror Norb began to twirl the cup on his fingertip like a basketball, the ginger ale swishing inside the cup like some kind of torrential storm and defying the laws of physics. It began to spin faster until it was simply a whirlwind of plastic and color, twirling around like some kind of midway ride at the tip of the beaver's hand.

"Stop it," Yakko hissed.

He was surprised by how fast Norb complied. The cup slowly began to stop spinning until it was finally balanced perfectly at the tip of Norb's finger. He dropped it gently to the tray where it stood in its completely natural position, completely still with no sign that it had ever been haphazardly spun on the beaver's fingertip at all. Yakko stared at it for a long time with his mouth hanging open, starting to feel unsure of it had really ever had moved at all. He glanced up at the beaver in disbelief and was shocked to see that he was smiling at him.

"You should see what I can do at parties with a bottle of wine," Norb said.

Yakko glared. "Are you trying to get them to kick us out of here? Somebody could have seen that."

"Hey, I'd have a parachute ready if they did," Norb said with a grin. "What's wrong?

"Nothing's wrong," Yakko said harshly. "It's just that right now, the last thing I need is a reason for me and my sibs to spend the night in a New York police station."

"Aw relax," Norb said dismissively. "It's not like I'm going to hurt anybody. We're delving into kindergarten stuff right here. Toon powers can only be used as toons anyway. It's all in good fun. A little trick like that isn't going to hurt anyone."

"That doesn't stop them from being illegal", Yakko said darkly.

"Well, what isn't illegal these days anyway? I'm not scared. What's the worst they're going to do? Kick me out of Burbank?

Yakko stared. "Then why are you leaving in the first place?

"I told you," Norb said simply as he took a sip from the cup of ginger ale. "I just graduated from med school. I got offered a job at a big name hospital in New York. I'm out of school now and it seemed like the right opportunity."

"Norb," Yakko said finally. "I know this probably didn't occur to you, but everything you've said really doesn't make any sense at all."

"And trust me _mon ami,_" Norb said with a yawn. He started to recline back in his seat and Yakko suddenly came to the realization that he was getting pretty tired himself. "It's going to be all downhill from here."

* * *

Two hours into the flight.

The plane was now cruising at an altitude of thirty-five thousand feet like some kind of bird of war. It sailed through the clouds with its engines thrumming, crossing over the border of New Mexico without any sign of waive or falter. It had been listed in the ticket for the passengers that the plane was going to make a short stop in Santa Fe with the possible chance of a delay before a direct flight would take them immeadidly to New York. Lansing Airlines, like virtually all airlines in the twenty-first century, operated with a black box to inform other aircraft personal of exactly where they were. Shortly after nine that morning, it should have instructed the pilot to steer east to which he didn't comply whatsoever. The pilot instead made a sharp turn west – a maneuver that made it clear the plane was not going to New Mexico, nor would it ever be reaching New York.

Sitting in the middle section of the plane that morning, a toon named Yakko Warner wasn't sure exactly where he was. His head felt strange and the air around him felt damp and odd, almost like he was lying in the middle of some kind of rainforest. His limbs felt they were weighed down with iron and there was a strange taste in his mouth, almost like a mixture of cough syrup and distilled water. He tried his best to open his eyes but he couldn't; they were weighing down and he felt like a jackhammer was pounding on the inside of his skull, hammering away. He was under the impression that he'd fallen asleep, but for some reason, he couldn't tell when.

He must have been back at the tower. That was it. He was back at the tower with Wakko and Dot and they were going to be going to New York the following morning. He wasn't sure exactly why, but there had to be a good reason because Dot had been yelling a lot about it recently. She'd come home late smelling like liquor the week before with one of her boyfriends clinging idiotically to her waist. Wakko had been in the living room playing the piano like he usually was. Yakko had been sitting in the living room, staring blankly at the television and-

Yakko suddenly realized that he could hardly breathe. He lurched in his seat, and with incredibly difficulty, was able to open his eyes. The air inside Lansing Flight 347 felt foggy and unclear and he could barely make out the other passengers around him. There were silhouettes of seats around him and they seemed to be going through turbulence because the plane was rocking gently up and down. Either that, or it was his headache. Coupled with the fact that his throat has essentially clogged up, Yakko's headache suddenly became a migraine as he groaned in his seat. He turned to his side and was able to dimly make out somebody sitting next to him.

"W-W-Wakko?" Yakko choked out.

But it wasn't his brother. He remembered that his brother, along with his sister, was sitting somewhere further up on the plane. The beaver who's named he couldn't remember was sitting next to him, slumped over with a thin line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His expression was dazed and it dimly reminded Yakko of the time he'd gone to the dentist when he was a teenager. They'd had to pull two of his tooth and he'd been shot up with Novocain and sent into a dreamlike state where everything had seemed obscenely funny. The dentist had said that it was entirely natural and finished the operation in an hour. He often imagined what his face must have looked like; all in all, it couldn't have been that much different than the beaver's now.

"Wake up", Yakko hissed as he nudged the beaver. He was doing his best to regain his speech. _"W-w-wake up."_

And that was when it all came crashing down at once. Struggling to make sense of the world around him, Yakko caught sight of the other passengers sitting in the aisle. Across from him was the fat man who had been reading the book earlier. The novel was nowhere to be found now and the man was preoccupied with the yellow mask he was clamping over his face, taking shallow breathes in and out like some kind of lung machine.

It took Yakko a moment to realize that it was an airline oxygen mask that they usually deployed from the roof when they were forced into high altitude. He watched the man breathing in and breathing out, scanning the other passengers with his beady eyes. He finally noticed Yakko staring at him and winked.

"_He wanted pills",_ Yakko's mind rambled. He wasn't even sure what he was thinking anymore. _"He wanted me to get the pills."_

If he didn't realize it at that moment, he definitely realized it sometime before he fell asleep. He glanced up and down the aisle with his tired eyes that were getting heavier every moment. Every human he could see on the plane was breathing steadily threw an oxygen mask while every toon he could see was slumped over in a seemingly catatonic state.

Near the very front of the plane, he caught a glimpse of three stewardesses standing beside each other, both of them breathing into three pairs of oxygen masks that had been hooked up into the wall near the cockpit. Two other stewardesses were walking up the aisle nearby and the sound of their heels on the aisle floor pounded into Yakko's eardrums, deafening like a barrage of cannon blasts. Everything seemed amplified and intense, and more than he ever had in his life, Yakko Warner was overwhelm with the urge to go to sleep and forget it all.

He glanced deliriously at the old man sitting beside him and was only mildly surprised to see that he had an oxygen mask too. The old man stared at him, breathing in and out, but didn't say anything.

"I said it wouldn't work on everyone," the first stewardess said through the mask as she reached him. "I told them to decrease it more but they wouldn't listen."

"Save your breath", the second stewardess said. This voice was the one that was familiar to Yakko. "He's losing it now."

He closed his eyes and felt like his eyes were rolling back into his head. His head now felt tight and wounded, almost like it was being cemented in some kind of hydraulic press. He felt his limbs stop working immeadidly, and sitting there in confusion with the world fading around him, Yakko's primal desires came rushing back to him like clockwork and he felt everything spinning. _He wanted to be with Wakko and Dot. He wanted to be back at the tower where they were safe. He-_

"Hey," said Carol the stewardess in the aisle. He could feel her leaning close to him, almost offering a last hint of advice "Keep your chin up."

And if Yakko Warner hadn't fallen into a deep sleep right there, he would have been the only one on the plane to realize that the pilot was decreasing the cabin pressure.


	4. Chapter 4

**June of 95'**

**

* * *

**

_It was the day that school ended on a Friday._

_The bell's ring was a nasally one that burred throughout every nook and cranny of the Warner Bros. Studio School - a small brown building that sat just north of the rehearsal hall - and at the sound of it, Yakko Warner's classmates raised a cheer. Some of them abandoned their desks and gathered their things together, hurrying to gather at the door like an unruly mob. Others turned around in their seats and began to chat with their neighbors. There was the immediate sound of clamor in the hallway outside as other classes were dismissed. Footsteps echoed and lockers slammed, laughter and screaming echoed, and toons of all ages ran out into the warm June day outside. _

_Even Yakko's teacher Miss Flamiel, standing as rigidly in front of the classroom as she always did, wasn't making any real attempt to calm them down. It almost seemed like – and Yakko could swear he saw a smile on her face when he thought this – that she was sharing the kinship with them that the year was finally over._

"_Please calm down everyone," Miss Flamiel called out in an offhand effort to quell them. She was an elderly woman getting older every day, and when she tried to raise her voice, you couldn't help but pity her. "Excuse me, please settle down. I'd like to get home as much as everyone else but there's some final issues we need to take care of. We'll be out of here in five minutes."_

_There were a few groans of exasperation. The toons that had abandoned their desks grudgingly walked back to their seats and sat down with their backpacks falling to the floor beside them. Everybody watched with mild interest as Miss Flamiel walked over to her desk and rummaged through her cabinet of drawers underneath. __It seemed to take a considerably long time before she retrieved a pile of manila folders that she held close to her chest, eyeing them all like a vulture from behind her crooked glasses. It only took the sight of the envelopes for mutters of excitement to fill the room. As if it was even possible, their teacher's unexpected maneuver had made the atmosphere in the room as tense as a battlefield. There was, of course, still one final assessment to deal with before the year was over – the delivery of their report cards._

"_Now, when I call your name, please come up and take your envelopes. I was pleased for the most part with your results – exceptionally pleased to be honest. Most of you made a great deal of progress from our spring exams. This was my first year teaching at this studio and I couldn't have asked for a better class. I hope to see all of you again when September rolls around and I hope you all have a safe summer. Now, if you'll just give me a moment to get all of these in order…"_

"_You know, I think I might have failed my last exam!" Shirley McLoon called out anxiously from the front row. She wasn't addressing anyone in particular and just seemed to be looking for someone willing to listen. She finally settled on Dot Warner sitting in the seat behind her. "I'm almost sure I did! Isn't that terrible?"_

"_Write a novel about it," Dot said dryly._

_Shirley glared at her before turning around to chat earnestly with Elmyra Duff. Sitting in the back row and having just watched it all, Yakko Warner couldn't help but suppress a laugh. He liked his seat in the back, mainly because it gave him a clear view of everything – he could see the tacky bulletin boards on either side of the room, the colorful construction paper mobiles that decorated the ceiling, and most of all, he could see every one of his classmates. He thought of people like Shirley McLoon, vivacious, pretty, and destined to sit in the seat closest seat available to the teacher. Then he glanced over at Dot sitting only a row behind the loon, impatiently glancing at the clock with her lips pursed. _

_It had always seemed strange to Yakko that, while some people were born with no charisma at all, others were practically brought into the world as socialites with everything handed to them. Shirley fell into the later category – she was a girl that proud of her voice, knowing it was fully capable of getting people to do things she wanted. Unlike most of their classmates, she had a family – and a very rich family at that – who had been involved in the entertainment business for decades. Yakko pictured the image of a toddler Shirley being thrown into commercial after commercial, pageant after pageant, magazine shoot after magazine shoot, and resisted the urge to throw up. It almost seemed like this stupid resume of hers was her entitled reason to hold her head up high – a lot of girls on the lot were like that when you really got to know them._

_Dot was different though. While girls like Shirley relied on cosmetics and daily trips to the makeup department, Dot seemed to have a natural kind of beauty that made people like her. She wouldn't be sitting on the bleachers with the other girls when they were all out playing baseball. She would be out on the field cracking home runs away like there was no tomorrow, throwing herself down into the dirt and getting enough scabs and bruises to frighten social workers everywhere. _

_Yakko wondered sometimes if he was born with that natural kind of charisma. He thought he told good jokes and he talked a lot, but in the end, he was aware that most of the time he talked just to hear the sound of his own voice. It was really a simple thing when you thought about it. Words could be a weapon for some and a burden for others. Yakko felt like he fell on neutral territory. When he was younger, words had simply been a way to cope with the other kids on the lot that had taken turns shoving him and his siblings around in the dormitories. The stories weren't something that he wanted to revisit, but in the end, they all blended together like a slideshow. One was Wakko sobbing in the infirmary with a black eye and a bloody nose. Another was Yakko himself sitting on his bed with an ice pack on his head, one of the adults kneeling by and treating a gash on his knee._

_The very injustice of it had made him angry, almost mad enough to be an advocate to go out and change things, but for some reason, Yakko didn't. As nice as the adults who worked in the studio's dormitories were, they turned a blind eye to most of the bullying that went on. It almost seemed to Yakko that if you wanted something to go in your favor, you had to do it yourself. His loudmouth attitude was what had gotten him beaten up when he was smaller, shoved down onto the blacktop or whacked senselessly with improved weapons until he couldn't see straight, but the ordeal didn't go on forever. As he was older his words had started to matter more, and eventually, the bullying had just subsided one day. One part of it was that most of the toons had turned eighteen and left the lot to go elsewhere – "probably a six-by-nine cell," as Dot would say – but the other part was that Yakko had simply started to believe in himself. It had been a hard thing to do, and even when his siblings asked him how he handled it, Yakko couldn't really give a clear answer._

_He paused for a moment to think about the two of them. When he really looked at it, Yakko felt like he was raising them right; at the very least, he was able to fall asleep at night knowing Wakko and Dot were happy. On the other hand, it wasn't like it was really his business to begin with anyway. He'd made it clear over and over to both of his siblings that he wasn't their parent; he was their older brother, and out of everything in their secluded little world on the studio lot, this was something that would never change. They were a family, and in a real family – not the phony ones that you saw on those old black-and-white sitcoms – there wasn't a real father figure. On the subject of real families, Yakko Warner was perfectly willing to state something that should have been obvious to begin with: everybody took care of everybody._

"_I wish she'd hurry up," Fifi LeFume said suddenly and snapped him out of his thoughts. Her seat was directly across the aisle from his. "The old bat's eating away at our vacation."_

"_All fifty-two seconds of it," Yakko said back with a smile. "It's two months Fifi, not two minutes." _

"_Well, two months shouldn't cut it then," Fifi said simply. "I'm telling you, I'm going to squeeze this summer until there's nothing left of it."_

_Yakko offered her a smile before turning away. He glanced around the classroom, waiting for some kind of grand epiphany that the year was finally over. The room was small with a crowded but cozy kind of feel to it, decorated in a haphazard fashion with colorful projects cluttering every wall. Stupid posters enforced the importance of doing homework; the air conditioner rumbled noisily in the corner. Their class size that year had been small at only twenty and would have been smaller if it wasn't for the fact that they combined age levels. Looking around the classroom and feeling the urge to get outside grow on him every second, Yakko glanced around the room. Concord Condor was a few rows away telling some kind of animated dirty joke to Skippy Squirrel. A few seats in front of them was Montana Max who arguing with Plucky Duck behind him about something that was probably incredibly stupid._

_Yakko suddenly became aware of the sound of tapping across the aisle. It was about as predictable as the thudding of raindrops and there was no real pattern to it. He turned toward his left and stared out into the aisle, catching sight of the gloved fingers tapping nervously and involuntarily on the wooden desk covered in graffiti and pencil carvings. The boy that the fingers belonged to was staring blankly down at his desk, his face hidden under a signature red hat._

_If this behavior weren't anything new to him, Yakko probably would have been concerned. In recent years though, he'd been taught that the way to deal with the boy sitting across from him – his brother as well as one of his best friends in the world - was wirht kindness and patience._

"_Hey big guy, don't be scared," Yakko said gently. "We didn't study all night for nothing. I'm guaranteed you passed."_

"_Yeah, you're probably right," Wakko Warner sighed. He seemed to consider everything for a moment before letting out a small laugh. "I mean, I think I messed up a little on the algebra stuff but all those tricks you taught me really helped." He paused for a moment, somehow managing to get his fingers to stop tapping for a moment. "You know, I really don't know why I always feel so nervous."_

"_Well, put all that behind you," Yakko said brightly. "It's the summer! Our vacation, el verano, im Sommer! We get to stay up late, wake up late, do whatever we want, and you're sitting here worrying about algebra. The moment we walk out that door, we're as good as gold." _

"_We're on contract all summer," Wakko said shortly. "We have to get up tomorrow to film. Ruegger wrote it on our schedule."_

_It took a moment for Yakko to notice that he'd gone right back to tapping his fingers again. Before he even had a chance to say anything, a voice cut into their conversation:_

"_Aw c'mon, why do you always have to be such a buzzkill?"_

_The two of them turned at the same time to see Buster Bunny, turned around in his seat in front of them and grinning ear-to-ear. He was wearing a stained Dodgers jersey that he would proudly say was autographed, almost showcasing the fact that the last day of school called for a celebration. There was a strange kind of childish glee in his eyes, almost like a new world had just opened up in front of him. While this might have sounded melodramatic for anybody else, Buster – who seemed to live for the idea of a good time – was practically in heaven at the mere idea of summer vacation. While his go-lucky attitude could get annoying, Yakko would have been the first to admit he liked him. He really was a fun person to be around, and unlike most people, he didn't exclude anyone – he really tried hard to get everybody in on having a good time._

"_You Warners want to come down to the costume department and play some baseball?" Buster said rapidly. "We're talking about a battle of epic proportions here. Plucky over there is betting me ten bucks of candy store money that he's going to win the first game of the season. I told him to savor every penny, because in a few hours, that money's in our pockets. I'm putting a team together that's going to drive his duckbilled face right into the ground. You in?"_

"_You know, it's been baseball season since winter for you guys," Yakko said with a smirk. "Don't you ever take it easy?"_

"_Hey man, I'll take it easy when I'm dead," Buster said brightly. "Right now, I have too glorious months ahead of me. Anyway, I was thinking about asking your sister. She's actually pretty good. I mean, for a girl anyway. Are you guys game too?"_

"_I'll play," Wakko said simply. He seemed to be staring out into space and not really focusing. _

"_What's been up with you?" Yakko asked. "You've been acting weird lately, and I mean weirder than usual."_

_"Do you think…" Wakko asked and his voice trailed off._

_He didn't even need to say it. Yakko followed his brother's gaze and saw he was staring wistfully up the aisle at Shirley McLoon. She was now engaged in some kind of story with Elmyra Duff, and when the two boys turned to glance at her, she was laughing with her head raised up toward the classroom's fluorescent lights, sitting on her desk and kicking her feet idly. _

_Yakko wondered what she was laughing about for a moment and then dismissed the thought entirely. It was common knowledge that Shirley's head was as empty as a flowerpot and talking to her – nonetheless going on a date with her – would be as fan as watching paint dry. On the other hand, Yakko couldn't help but feel touched by the awed look on his brother's face. If adolescent crushes meant something, then Wakko's smile at that moment might as well have been the epitome of it. Head over heels, the middle Warner sibling had fallen in love – not real love, but the artificial kind that could only really be seen when you were pining over Shirley McLoon on the last day of school._

"_Hey, just stick your tongue in your mouth and don't take no for an answer," Yakko said brightly. "Consider yourself irresistible."_

"_I will now be calling your names one-by-one," Miss Flamiel's voice called out suddenly. "Elmyra, Wakko, Skippy."_

"_Go get em' tiger," Yakko urged._

_Wakko grinned. "Thanks."_

_Yakko watched as his brother walked up and joined the queue top get his report card. He glanced back at Buster but the rabbit seemed to have dismissed him completely. He was now leant forward and talking enthusiastically to Babs Bunny in the seat in front of him, who was nodding politely but probably not really listening. The two of them had been an on-and-off pair for the last several years, but in the grand scheme of things, they were pretty much inseparable – it was actually getting difficult to say one of their names without saying the other's. _

_Still, that wasn't saying they were anything alike. While Buster lived in an endless childhood and let everything roll by him, Babs had more of a cynical attitude that sometimes made her hard to talk to. She was friendly for the most part, but if something got her mad, she was more than inclined to fight for it. It was common in their history lessons for her to start heated debates with the teacher, her favorite topics being the celebration of Columbus Day in America and the representation of toons in government. While Yakko wasn't anywhere close to quiet either, he had always respected the fact that Babs genuinely seemed to know what she was talking about._

"_You really think he passed?" a voice asked behind him._

_Yakko was shaken out of his thoughts when turned around to see Dot had just walked over and sat down in Wakko's empty seat. She was glancing at him skeptically and chewing on what looked like bubble gum. It was a rare occasion for her to talk to him in school. Most of the time she simply stuck to her own circle of friends and veered away from him, almost trying to prove a point that she was her own person. It seemed like the summertime blues had given her a change of heart._

"_I know it," Yakko said. "Heck, the way that I crammed all that stuff into his head last night, I'd be surprised if they don't promote the little guy right out of here. He's a guaranteed brain surgeon now."_

"_Buster, Babs, Conrad, Dizzy."_

"_See you after school," Buster called out in the aisle as he walked past them. "Remember, this is going to be war."_

"_Bye guys," Babs said chirpily._

"_The way I see it," Dot said, waiting patiently until the two of them were gone. "Is that he's getting worse, Yakko. The medicine isn't helping at all. It doesn't matter how many pills he pops or how many times you get these eggheads to psychoanalyze him. When he has those outbursts, he really has them. It's dangerous. My friends are starting to really get scared. I mean, it's one thing for a human, but if you're a too-_

"_He told me he was getting better," Yakko said confidently. "He says he feels fine most of the time."_

"_When did he tell you that?" Dot asked with her eyebrows raised. "Four months ago?" _

"_Dot, Yakko, Fifi, Shirley."_

"_School's out," Dot said with a grin._

_The two of them hurried past the sea of faces and desks and made their way to the queue of toons awaiting their report cards. In the corner of his eye, Yakko smiled at the image of Wakko standing by the doorway and tearing open his manilla envelope with a bright grin on his face. Miss Flamiel seemed to be taking her time to talk to each of her students individually and give them a final farewell. When Yakko approached her, she gave him an appraising look and actually smiled at him. It was a strange thing to notice but, for somebody who was so stern and rigid all the time, she actually had a very kind smile._

"_It's been a pleasure having you in my class this year, Yakko," Miss Flamiel said. "Just don't have too much fun this summer."_

_Yakko flashed a smile back at her. "Your wish is my command."_

_Stepping out of line, he didn't waste a minute before he ripped into the envelope and tore out his results. Trying to not read everything at once so he could actually process it, Yakko eyes shot back and forth across the page like a sniper._

_**Final Examination Results**_

_**Yakko Warner has received:**_

_**Arithmetic: A- **_

_**English: A+ **_

_**Social Studies: A+ **_

_**Earth Science: A **_

_**Computer Technology: A- **_

_**Community Studies: A+ **_

_**Theatre Arts: A+ **_

_Yakko breathed a quiet sigh of relief and quickly tucked the report card back into the envelope. Then, with a conspicuous glance to make sure nobody was watching, he quickly waved the envelope behind his back where it vanished into thin air. Accessing hammerspace was generally a risky business seeing how, as you got older, the punishment for it wasn't a stern lecture by the grownup that caught you – it was a guaranteed court date with a pretty big fine attached. Still though, the fact that toons had access to infinite storage was too convenient of an opportunity to pass up. Slappy Squirrel, one of his costars on his show, had told him once that outlawing powers was like telling a bird it wasn't allowed to fly because humans didn't have wings. The more he thought about it, the more he felt inclined to agree. Yakko knew he was drawn a toon for a reason and he had no intention of arguing about it_

"_I guess should have known," a familiar voice said._

_Yakko glanced over toward the doorway and almost immeadidly he felt his heart sink. His brother was standing dejected by the doorway and gazing down blankly at his report card, his hat covering his face in shame. Yakko didn't have to be a genius to realize what had just happened. He immeadidly felt a massive wave of guilt crash over him and instinctively took a step forward. Wakko apparently noticed because he glanced up and locked eyes with his older brother, his face unreadable. The two of them stared at each other for a long time, words really not even needing to suffice to show how they were feeling. For the first time in a long time, Yakko Warner actually found himself at a loss for words._

"_I didn't make it," Wakko said solemnly. _

"_Hey buddy, you don't have to go and beat yourself up over it," Yakko said quickly. He knew he sounded phony but he couldn't help it. "It's just one of those things. I mean, it was a last-minute cram session anyway. We shouldn't have waited until the last minute. If it makes you feel any better, we'll study every night after dinner this sum-_

"_I'm going back to the tower," Wakko said blankly._

"_Hey, we were all going to play baseball," Yakko said. "You even told Buster you would play, remember?"_

"_He'll find someone to cover up for me," Wakko said. "Be sure to tell me who wins."_

"_Shirley's probably going to be there too if-_

_But it was too late. Wakko turned and walked out the classroom door before he could finish, crumbling his report card on the way out and tossing it worthlessly into the wall above the wastebasket. It bounced against the bulletin board with their history projects on it before it fell limply down into the garbage can like a basketball hoop. He didn't even glance back at his brother as he walked out the door and vanished into the hallway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Yakko stared at the doorway for a long time. He tried to think of something he could do, anything to make the situation better, but he couldn't – all he could do was stand there in an odd kind of fascination, wondering why things hadn't worked out the way he'd planned they would._

"_Poor guy," Dot said sadly as she walked up a moment later. Her own manilla envelope was clutched in her hand. "You really shouldn't have gotten his hopes up like that. Maybe you should get him a tutor or something."_

"_How was I supposed to know?" Yakko said irritably. "He had everything fine last night. He's just not a good test taker – that's the problem. He'll get it if you just sit down and talk him through it, but if you give him all these stupid multiple choice questions and essays, his mind goes blank. And for the last time Dot, he doesn't need a stupid tuto-_

"_Yakko," Miss Flamiel called out. "Can I see you for a moment?" _

_She was sitting behind her desk now. It was then that Yakko realized that nobody else was in the classroom anymore – they'd all collected their report cards and taken off down the hallway, leaving only the three of them behind. He looked at Miss Flamiel sitting behind her desk, her nose crooked like a vulture and smiling like some kind of act of judgment. He liked her fine, but even when you really looked at it, you couldn't help but feel that was the kind of person born to be a teacher; her face with such sternness to it that it didn't seem to fit anywhere else but by the nearest blackboard. She'd tied her gray hair up into a bun that day so it seemed to stretch back her wrinkles, in turn making her face look rigid and stiff like a department store mannequin._

"_Sure," Yakko said with a hint of surprise in his voice. "I'll catch you at the baseball field alright, Dot?"_

"_Alright," Dot said. "See you later, Yakko. Try to talk Wakko into coming if you can._

_He halfheartedly waved goodbye as she walked out into the hallway. Then he casually walked over to the front desk and slid into the closest seat beside it. The classroom being vacant felt strange, and in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but hear the lament of Fifi LeFume. really was eating up his summer second by second. The classroom's window on the east wall faced toward the studio's gazebo, otherwise known as a small park of an area with rows of golden flowers spelling out the Warner Bros. logo. Here and there were kids running around in different directions with report cards, all of them content and dismissed from school without a care in the world. He spotted Buster addressing a large group of kids, talking rapidly with a smile stretching to each of his long rabbit ears._

_Miss Flamiel eyed him carefully from behind her desk. "Do you have any plans this summer?"_

"_Same old, same old," Yakko said. "You?"_

"_I'm going to Niagra Falls with my girlfriends at the country club," Miss Flamiel said with a wistful smile. "We're all on a mission to see the seven natural wonders of the world. Would you like a piece of hard candy?"_

_She was gesturing to a green porcelain bowl of candies sitting on the edge of her desk. They were the kind wrapped in plastic that usually tasted like cough syrup, most of them shaped like strawberries of cherries with yellow dots decorating them for seeds. It wasn't out of place to see them sitting on retirement home coffee tables or sitting untouched at barber shops and doctor's offices. Yakko knew them only as the token outcasts of his Halloween stash every year._

"_Thanks," Yakko said as he returned the smile. "but I don't turn seventy-two until October."_

"_They've been a habit for me ever since my granddaughter made me get my teeth pulled," Miss Flamiel explained. "I keep reminding myself to go to the store on Magnolia Boulevard sometime and pick up some candy that you and the other children will actually eat, but it always slips my mind. You could consider me senile, but I've just been so busy lately. Everyone's caught up with their little lives - some people need to take a rest. Are you sure you don't want one?_

"_I'm good."_

_She glanced out the window thoughtfully with her lips pursed, the sunlight shining in on her face. Yakko turned to watch the kids outside and, for an odd moment, found himself feeling like a grownup. It was a short feeling, a quiet one too, and fortunately he was able to dismiss it completely. Yakko instinctively glanced at the clock mounted above the blackboard and felt a mild twinge of confusion. Half a minute had just passed without his teacher getting to the point._

"_The weather's nice today," Miss Flamiel commented suddenly. She was still staring out the classroom window from behind her wire-rimmed glasses. "It makes me feel so happy – so convivial." She paused for a moment and Yakko was left wondering what the word convivial even meant. "I'm sure you were happy with your grades this year. I'm sorry about your brother. If you want, I could give you a list of tutors in the area. I'm sure we could find one willing to come onto the lot-_

"_Wakko," Yakko said shortly. "Doesn't need a tutor."_

"_Well goodness," Miss Flamiel said as she turned back to face him. She seemed taken aback for a moment but the phony smile returned to her face. "I'm sure he doesn't – no, not at all to be honest. I'm sorry I even suggested that. The poor dear. I hope he wasn't upset."_

"_He'll get over it," Yakko said quickly. "We just worked too hard last night. It was a last minute thing, you know? Two sibs coming to you for help at the same time doesn't fly that well at ten-o-clock at night. It was kind of hard bouncing back and forth between the two of them."_

"_The three of you sure spend a lot of time together," Miss Flamiel said in a wistful way. "Do you like my bust, Yakko?"_

_He'd just noticed the small bust sitting on the desk – when he first glanced at it, he was surprised that he'd never noticed it before; it really was something worth staring at. The bust was of a man's enormous head cupped in his little palm, his body out of proportion and sitting on a stone chair. The face was wearing thick glasses and had such a strained look on his plastic face that Yakko wouldn't have surprised if the artist had been inspired by constipation. The paint on it was slightly chipped, but as a tacky desk decoration, it was mildly interesting to look at. The man literally looked weighed down with thought._

"_It's cool I guess," Yakko answered. He wasn't really sure what to say. "Garage sale?_

"_Yard sale actually. I bought it on impulse. It's a surreal replica of The Thinker by Auguste Rodin. We'll learn about that next year when we study France. The artist here distorted the statue and made his head misshapen – you see here, he isn't doing much thinking at all because he's too busy. His thoughts are everywhere and they're so jumbled up that he's become frustrated. Depressed even."_

"_Tough luck," Yakko said. _

"_Tough luck indeed," Miss Flamiel replied._

_The clock was now moving malevolently slow and every second seemed to slow down to hyper animation. It finally reached the point where Yakko couldn't help but say something. He looked at Miss Flamiel staring out the glass window with her lips pursed, her eyes reptilian and old behind her glasses, and clearly not eager to bring up whatever she was planning to._

"_Why did you want to see me, Miss Flamiel?" Yakko asked finally._

"_I was afraid we were getting to that," Miss Flamiel sighed as she turned away from the window. "I guess I should stick to teaching. Small talk has never been my strong suit. Just ask the girls at the country club."_

_He watched as she slid the lid over the porcelain bowl of candies and tucked it back into her cabinet of drawers. Then she turned back and gave him a long and hard look, almost the look that you would give a dog at a pound knowing you didn't have the money or the heart to buy it. It was a sad look, and on an old woman's face, it looked even more pitiful. Yakko shuffled uncomfortably in his seat and wondered if the baseball game had started. Then he wondered if he could use it an excuse to leave it things ended up getting ugly._

"_Yakko, I don't know if I'm justified to tell you this," Miss Flamiel began. "I don't even know if it would be a wise thing to do. On the other hand, I'm going with my instincts in that it just seems like the right thing to do." _

_Yakko stared. "What kind of advice?_

"_How old are you now? _

"_Old enough to know better," Yakko said instantly. He didn't mean to say it, but it came out naturally. He was perfectly aware of where their conversation was going now. It was a lecture he'd heard many times before and the way things were going, it was a lecture he would hear many times before he grew up. His eyes turned instinctively to the clock again and realized that not even a minute had passed. _

"_Yakko, there's no need for that," Miss Flamiel said gently. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to help you. I've seen your case hundreds of times and I don't want to see it happen again. I know you live up in that tower with your brother and sister. It must seem pretty surreal to you – it's pretty surreal to me at least. A guaranteed place to sleep, three meals a day, a proper education, and fame on a television show. And it's not like that bachelor pad they gave you is jut a place to lay your head down is it, is it?_

"_The ceiling leaks when it rains," Yakko replied. _

"_I know you care about Wakko and Dot," Miss Flamiel said. "I know they're the only semblance of a family that you've ever had. When I stand in front of the class in the morning, when I look at the faces that look back at me, I pity some of the students I teach, Yakko. I pity the ones that were drawn for the sole sake of show business and never had a parent in their life. I stand up there and pretend I don't care, but I do. I care about you, Yakko. I care about you and I don't want to see you fall hard._

"_Well, then I'll cross that bridge when I get to it, won't I?"_

"_It's not good for someone your age to be a guardian, Yakko. No eleven-year old should have the responsibility of making sure that the refrigerator's full or having to get up before dawn just to make breakfast._

"_The refrigerator's always full," Yakko said quickly. "My siblings aren't malnourished, they have all their limbs, and they haven't touched drugs. We eat dinner together every night and I go shopping every Saturday. As far as being a guardian goes in the twenty-first century, I think that means I'm doing a decent job._

"_I never said you weren't," Miss Flamiel replied with her eyebrows raised.._

"_You implied it," Yakko said. He paused and glanced at her wearily. "Look, I really do appreciate what you're trying to do, but I've heard all of this before, Miss Flamiel. You're really not doing anything revolutionary here. I can take care of myself. Just get to the point and tell me what you're trying to propose here. Either that or we'll just keep talking about how the weather's convivial."_

"_What I'm proposing," Miss Flamiel said sternly, ignoring everything he'd just said. "Is living in the dormitories again. It will put a lot of work off your hands. Three meals a day, a place to sleep, guaranteed space until you turn eighte-_

"_My brother and I moved all the furniture into the tower together. Ruegger even talked to Spielberg and got the okay. We did it on Christmas Eve two years ago and a lot of the other kids helped. How would you feel if the three of us come over and relocate you out of your house for no good rea-_

"_It's not fair to the other children for you to live in a bachelor pad while they-_

"_Oh, so this is about the other children now?" Yakko said angrily. He could feel his temper rising but he didn't care. She was venturing into a place that she had no business to. "You come and sit me down here trying to make small talk about my summer, and when you think you have me in the right place, you have the nerve to tell me how to raise my brother and sister? And after that, when I say something that actually makes sense, something that really knocks you off your high horse and makes you think for a second, you go and fall back on the other children? Who do you think you are?"_

_There was a powerful silence that hung between them. It was a long silence and it was one that no longer felt between an adult and a child. Yakko felt proud and vindicated as his words hit the woman who he'd genuinely liked until roughly a minute ago. There was a look of discomfort on her face now, perhaps even fear, and this only made him feel stronger. _

_He thought of Miss Flamiel lecturing to them about the Civil War in January, her back turned to them and arched up as crooked as a question mark as she prattled on about people who were long dead. Miss Flamiel, who liked to wear corduroy dresses and bring in an espresso every morning with her nose held high up in the air. who – unbeknownst to Yakko or any of her students for that matter - would only teach for several more years after that particular day in 1995 before she would suffer a stroke while getting ready to sunbath with her friends in the glass atrium of the Quinosco Hills Country Club. It was a strange thing to really think about your teachers, because most of the time, you simply saw them for what they were: teachers. The idea of a human trying to talk to him almost frightened him, just as much as the idea of an adult Yakko probably frightened her._

"_Yakko, none of this is going to help you," Miss Flamiel said finally. She was speaking slowly and he could tell she was choosing her words carefully. "You can yell at me all you want, but I'll be damned if I'm doing something wrong here. You're going to grow up fast. I see this case all the time. I shouldn't really be one to talk if I want to keep my position here, but I've never approved of the way our society approaches drawing toons: creating life – children for that matter – just so they can dance a gig on TV. And when that gig's up Yakko, when everything's over, they're going to left to fend for themselves. You're going to grow up so fast that you're going to stop seeing the things that really matter. I just want you to slow down and enjoy things while they last. Quite simply Yakko Warner, I want you to feel like a kid. If there's one thing I know, one sole thing that I've gotten out of my life, it's that nothing lasts forever."_

"_Then I'll squeeze the time I have for all it's worth," Yakko said simply. It was the first that came out of his mouth and he hardly any idea what it really meant. He paused for a moment, staring over at her and wondering if it there was any point in talking to her anymore. It only took a short time before he decided on his answer._

"_Where are you going?" Miss Flamiel asked as he started to get up out of his seat._

"_To get my brother to come down to the baseball field," Yakko said simply, sliding his chair back under his desk. "In case you haven't noticed, it's summer. Class is over."_

"_Yakko please, I'm your teacher-_

"_You stopped being my teacher five minutes ago," Yakko said. "Now you're just an adult keeping me from a baseball game and wondering if I have milk in my fridge."_

"_I hope you have a good vacation," Miss Flamiel said quietly. Her face was so blank that it could have been carved in stone. "I'll be waiting at the front door." _

"_And I'll be right back when the bell rings in September," Yakko said._

_And that was when he left the desk, trying to feel like he'd won but somehow just feeling crummy. He passed the bulletin boards covered in their history projects, and with the year now over, he felt surreally like a ghost looking in on his own funeral. It wasn't until he passed the small wastebasket that he felt a twinge of regret. His eyes locked on the crumpled ball of paper edging out of the top like an overstuffed salad bowl. At first he threatened himself not to look at it, believing no good would come out of it, but in the end, his impulses took over. If he did the crime, he might as well do the time. He reached in and grabbed the ball of paper in his gloved hand, uncurling it like a treasure map. He had the uncanny feeling that Miss Flamiel was still watching him, but all in all, he didn't care. Yakko stood there solemnly, staring at the report card for what seemed like a very long time:_

_**Final Examination Results**_

_**Wakko Warner has received:**_

_**Arithmetic: D-**_

_**English: F **_

_**Social Studies: C- **_

_**Earth Science: F **_

_**Computer Technology: F- **_

_**Community Studies: D- **_

_**Theatre Arts: B- **_

_Yakko crumbled the paper back together and clutched it in his gloved hands like a baseball as he walked out into the hallway. The rows of lockers made it seem like he was walking through a mausoleum and the double doors were arced wide open at the very end, filling the long terminal with almost holy sunlight; he'd almost forgotten that it was summer. It should have made him feel fresh and rejuvenated - the way a thirteen-year old kid was supposed to feel on the last day of school – but it didn't. Walking down the hallway with the crumbled report card, it all just made him feel dirty._

_The sun would set in a few hours. It would set by the rehearsal hall, it would set by the costume department, and it would even set by the water tower where the three of them would be eating an early dinner out on the balcony after the baseball game, victorious for the fact that there was more than enough milk in the refrigerator to go around. It was a good thought, but it didn't end there – the sun would set the next day too, and soon enough, it would be September again and things would move on in their clockwork cycle. Months would pass. Then years would. As much as Yakko didn't want to admit that Miss Flamiel was right, Yakko couldn't help but feel a quiet sense of dread at the idea: how long was forever?_

_Before he knew it, he found himself standing by the double doors, looking the summer right in the eyes. The gazebo's flowers gleamed outside and their wasn't a cloud in the sky. In the distance, from several blocks away in the studio, there was the sound of a mighty crack that echoed through the air._

_Baseball..._

"_School's out," Yakko muttered under his breathe. Then he walked out into sunlight and-_

_

* * *

_

Sitting in the dark without any glimpse of recognition, waking up from a memory he couldn't really remember, the first thing that was brought to the consciousness of Yakko Warner was the smell of cigarette smoke. It came wafting in like a bonfire in dense woods, acrid with the scourge of nicotine. The smell overpowered him for some reason and he found himself resisting the urge to gag. The whole thing should have seemed strange to him, maybe even a little worrisome, but for some odd reason, all he could feel was a dull feeling of confusion – why was somebody smoking in the middle section of the plane? It was an odd thing to think, but under the circumstances, it seemed completely natural. The world was dark and he felt like some kind of space traveler.

"_Albuquerque,"_ Yakko thought. It felt like an accomplishment to get a coherent thought out. _"We were getting off there. Or was it in Santa Fe? Hey, weren't we going to New York?"_

He tried to open his eyes but he couldn't. It was like an invisible wall had been thrown over them in his sleep. There was a disquieting taste on the tip of his tongue, bitter like the scent of the copper of a penny. He thought back to the dentist when he was little – an annual visit with the complimentary dose of novacaine and a root beer lollipop to take home – and for some reason, he started to giggle. He felt as high as a kite and everything suddenly felt obscenely funny.

Maybe he was on his way to his radio show again. That would mean it was a weekday and around seven-o-clock in the morning. If it wasn't that, maybe he was at home laughing at one of Wakko's stupid jokes. That would mean it was one of those rare Friday nights when the two of them were at home together, sitting on the sofa and making small talk as they flipped through stupid late night shows. Then he remembered the cigarette smoke and wondered if it was one of those more atypical nights for him, meaning a casual trip to one of those sleazy clubs downtown. He didn't particularly care for any of the crowd there, but he did know a few people and it was a good place to go and talk and catch up on things. Along with that, it was one of the few places you could go where people were so drunk they were willing to listen to you.

"_Phone call,"_ Yakko thought suddenly. _"Something about a phone call."_

It was then that Yakko suddenly had three epiphanies. The first was that he wasn't on an airplane. The second was that his head felt like he'd just woken up the morning after New Year's Eve. The third was that there was music playing. It could have been going on for a while, but at the time that he'd woken up, his senses had been so mellowed down that they hadn't been able to pick anything up. The music might have been all right normally, but coupled with his oncoming migraine – as well as an oncoming urge to throw up - it only seemed like a stimulant that intensified everything. The song itself was one of those ancient ballroom songs – the kind that brooding guys in fedoras and suits would bellow out on high stages at Hollywood parties in the golden age. It took a moment before Yakko was able to make out the words and a moment later to realize that it was coming out of the hotel's intercom:

"_That gay old fashioned way…_

_That makes me love you more…"_

Memories faded in and out like old episodes of sitcoms. When he was six years old, he'd come down with pnuemonia and spent a week in the dormitory's infirmiary feeling like a sweaty mess. When he was eight, he'd helped set up a Christmas tree in the lobby of the rehearsal hall with some of the other kids in his class. When he was ten, he'd watched Buster Bunny get offered thirty bucks to ride his bicycle down that steep hill by the lot's costume department. The rabbit had complied and ended up nearly suffering a concussion in the process. He remembered the image of Buster grinning at him later at the bottom of the hill, his white teeth somehow shining through his mangled mess of a face.

Yakko thought, _"Just where am I anyway?"_

A hearty whiff of the cigarette smoke was what got him to open his eyes. He wretched horribly and bowled over to his side, emptying a breakfast's worth of lousy airline food onto the carpet. He sat on his knees coughing and sputtering, feeling everything come washing back to him like a dam being lifted in a canal. He remembered hurrying everyone out of bed when it was still dark outside. He remembered Dot standing in the jetway like she was about to issue some kind of commandment, not caring that she was holding everyone up behind her. Then he remembered that some toon had sat down next to him halfway through the flight – a beaver, he was pretty sure – even though he couldn't recall the name now. Everything came back to him bit by bit, almost like an anthology of everything that had happened since the morning.

It took Yakko a moment to realize where he was, and even when he did, he was far from satisifed – in fact, he was completely unnerved by it. He'd woken up sprawled out in the middle of a long hallway with a velvet carpet, doors lining down at either side of him with golden plaques on them to show their number. There was a chandelier dangling above his head but, for some reason, it wasn't even lit – in fact, it looked like it hadn't been touched in a very long time. If Yakko had been any more awake he would have put two and two together sooner, but waking up from the haze, he could only see everything on a subconcious level. He was in a hallway. Not just any hallway, but a hallway at a hotel – a very nice one that would have been even nicer if somebody just turned the lights on.

"A hotel in the new millennium that's out of Marlboros. What's the world coming to?"

Yakko turned to see one of the most unexpected things in his life. There were small lounge chairs sitting sparingly down the hallway, usually flanked by a brass reading lamp or a chest of drawers. In the one closest to him, a woodpecker sat and stared at him with eyes that shone like coal. It was a scraggly looking kind of thing with a dirty coat of blue and white feathers that finally arced up into a messy tuft of red hair. The bird was smirking at him with a look of bemusement on his face. He was also holding a cigarette in his free hand and the smoke was billowing out like a train whistle. Yakko stared at the cigarette with obscene fascination and, in a very strange way, actually felt relieved – at least one of his questions were answered now.

"There's no point in screaming," the woodpecker said simply as he took another long drag from his cigarette. "Everyone else here gave up on that a few minutes ago."

"Who are you?" Yakko blurted out. He had thousands of questions but this was the first one that came out.

"Relax," the woodpecker said coolly. "I'm not the bad guy here. Or at least I don't think so. It would be a pretty shocking twist if I were now that I think about it. You know, I didn't think you'd ever wake up. People who talk in their sleep are like that. You're not the last one though, no surrey, you're not." He paused for a moment and picked up a small white square sitting on his lap. "Hey, do you want a cigarette? I thought they would have some lying around in the drawers or something, but the cobwebs in here are telling me that the staff here doesn't get around much. I decided to pull a pack out from behind my back. I mean, don't get the wrong idea. I don't do toon stuff a lot, but with the situation and all, I didn't think it would be a problem."

Yakko heard all of the bird's words but didn't really take them in. He'd just noticed something else that had caught him completely off guard -somebody had taken his clothes away. He was now wearing an oddly familiar pair of Khaki slacks held up by a Sam Brown belt. If he was in any better state of mind he probably would have been bewildered, maybe even a little scared, but standing there and trying to regain his senses as the woodpecker talked behind, Yakko couldn't feel much of anything.

It all seemed like some kind of dream that you got halfway through a trip somewhere. Your mind would wander as you slept – probably caught on that long stretch of purgatory between New York and Burbank – before the captain turned on the fasten seatbelt signs for landing and woke you up. Then you would gather your luggage and get off the plane, forgetting your dream a few minutes later when you were back to the hustle and bustle of the real world. This wasn't like that. Yakko stood there in the hallway as everything came rushing back to him, wanting desperately to deny it but knowing there wasn't a point. The facts couldn't have been clearer: he'd just woken up and this was real.

"I said, do you want one?" the woodpecker said. He was holding out his pack of Camels in an oddly friendly gesture. "You look like you could use it."

"I quit smoking two years ago," Yakko muttered. "Where are we?"

The woodpecker eyed him wearily. "Down the hall and take a left down the staircase. You'll probably get your answer."

"I was with my brother and sister. Did they-

"Trust me," the woodpecker said coldly. "I was on the plane too. I was in your shoes twenty minutes ago when I woke up, and right now, I still don't know any more than you do."

For a second Yakko felt the urge to say something. After all, it would have been all the more appropriate for the woodpecker to be the one to answer all his questions. He was after all, the first person he'd seen after waking up. It would be to convenient for him to do something worthwhile, so in the end, he was just left with sitting there to smoke cigarette after cigarette and spitting out nonsense like murky water through a porthole. Yakko was eerily reminded of the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland.

"Alright," Yakko said awkwardly. "Thanks for the help, I guess."

"Don't mention it," the woodpecker said. "Hey, maybe when this is over we'll all get to sue Lansing Airlines together."

Yakko nodded without saying anything and started to walk away from the bird. If he was in any better state of mind he would have immeadidly recognized him earlier as Woody Woodpecker from the Walter Lantz cartoons who was at least sixty now, but he somehow brushed it away like a small thing that was better off forgotten. He started to walk away briskly down the corridor, eventually hurrying into a speed walk. The wall was covered with portraits of long dead movie stars like some kind of memoriam, all of them laughing at cocktail parties or swinging on ballroom dance floors. Yakko actually found himself recognizing some of them. _Errol Flynn. Marilyn Monroe. Myrna Loy._ They were all smiling with their black-and-white faces and Yakko stared to feel like he was walking through some kind of surreal funhouse where everyone was laughing at him.

"_It could have been anything_," Yakko's mind rambled. _"There's an answer somewhere. Someone's going to step out any second and give all of this a good explanation. Then we'll all go to New York and you'll make it up them somehow. Corn dogs in Central Park maybe. Then you'll work up enough money to go see one of those stupid new age Broadway. Dot always likes those stupid thi-_

_Wakko! Dot!_

It only took the thought of his siblings to make Yakko's jog turn into a run. As it would turn out however, he didn't have the run for very long. He could see what looked like the railing of a stairwell around the corner that probably emptied out into a much larger room – a room that was actually lit up for that matter. The darkness of the hallway ended near the stairwell's railing and light that almost seemed golden was edging out down the hallway. It didn't take long for Yakko to become aware of the sound of frantic yelling from what sounded like a big crowd. He didn't stop walking.

Before he reached the stairwell, he became aware that he still wasn't the only one in the hallway. Two toons – squirrels by the look of it – were standing near the stairwell but weren't really paying any real interest to it. They seemed to be a couple and the girl was intimately hugging the boy – it took Yakko a moment to realize that her face was stained in tears. The boyfriend, on the other hand, didn't seem to be paying much attention to her. He was stroking her hair and staring out into space with hollow eyes, not really noticing much of anything. It was hard to tell which one of them was more frightened.

"You think they would have come by now," Yakko heard the squirrel say blankly as he walked past. "Christ, you think somebody would have come by now."

Yakko didn't even consider saying anything to them. Hurrying along without any sign of waver, he turned the corner and stared down the stairwell in front of him not knowing what to expect.

Looking back at it later, there really wasn't anything he could have done to prepare himself anyway.

* * *

The stairwell sloped down into a lobby the size of a ballroom with what looked like hundreds of statues and plants decorating it like some kind of garden. The walls rose high into a domed ceiling that eventually sloped up into pristine glass, seemingly bearing a colorful collage of what looked like stories from Greek mythology. The walls were red and covered with ivy, virtually hidden behind the same portraits of long dead movie stars that had littered the hallway. There was a welcoming desk in the far corner, but at the moment, Yakko couldn't get a clear view of it.

What he could get a clear view of however, was the mob of what looked like nearly fifty toons congregating all over the floor. Some of them were standing off on the side and wallowing in their own thoughts, some were running around and trying to gather information, but most had taken a simpler approach. A large mob had formed near the center of the sea of faces and a crowd of toons seemed to be engaged in some kind of fight. A good deal of them were shoving each other around and yelling out accusations, nobody really seeming willing to own up to anything. In the middle of the floor, Yakko caught sight of a chameleon pull out what looked like a baseball bat from behind his back. He proceeded to crack it into the nose of the gorilla in front of him, yelling out a stream of obscenities in Spanish.

"Let me out of here!'

"What's going on?"

"Stop fighting! This isn't how we're going to solve things!"

"Were you on the plane? Was everybody here on the plane?"

"Hey, I'm going to beat the shit out of you!"

"Help me!"

It was pandemonium of the highest degree. Yakko was left speechless as he stood there at the top of the staircase, watching what looked like every member of Lansing Flight 347 quarrel in front of him. The whole scene was so outlandish and strange that it almost looked worthy to hang in a museum. The idea of a rational explanation seemed intangible now.

"Black sweatshirt," Yakko thought wildly as his eyes scanned the crowd. "Wakko was wearing a black sweatshirt."

He started to hurry down the staircase without a second thought, throwing himself down into a crowd that smelled like sweat and fear. There seemed to be toons elbowing each other in every direction; others were on the side calling for peace; others were shouting out vulgar things at the top of their lungs; a good deal of them, on the other hand, were just standing there pitifully with tears streaking down their faces. Yakko saw all of them flash in front of him in a daze, almost like a collage of pictures you saw in history textbooks: haggard beggars crawling on the side of gutters during the Great Depression and emaciated victims standing with hollow eyes outside concentration camps. All of them situations that had clearly happened but you never imagined to happen to you.

Being in real danger – being cleanly removed from everything he'd lived for in the last few years - didn't feel real to Yakko.

He shouldered his way through the crowd with his eyes gazing around like a hawk, his neck arched up like a crane to catch a glimpse of what he was looking for. Somebody next to him was howling something in his ear about deserving answers. The smell of urine made it clear that somebody else had wet themselves. Yakko's heart was pumping and palpitating like a jackhammer now, attributed to awakening after possibly being drugged as well as genuine fear.

He thought of the countless things that could have happened to them. Through Dot's eyes in recent years, nearly all their misfortune had been his fault. It was his fault if one of her magazines had gotten lost in the mail just as much as if he'd slept in and forgotten to drive her to some stupid audition that she hadn't even rehearsed for. He didn't know if he was an accident or not, but most of the time, he'd feel inclined to argue back just to prove her wrong. He'd overpower her with his words, asking her what she was doing in her free time to help out with the family. The situations were so predictable that you could role play most of them. Dot would stomp to her room in a huff, slamming the door on its hinges before retreating to her bureau to put on makeup for a date with a loser who wasn't even worth her time.

This wasn't like that thought. Yakko had booked the plane tickets. Yakko had gotten the phone call a week ago. Yakko had ushered them across the country with a smile on his face, assuring them the whole time that everything would be fine. Looking back at it now, he couldn't help but feel terrible.

"_If they're hurt...," _Yakko thought but he shook the idea away with a feeling of revulsion. He knew it would something he'd never be capable of getting over it happened. Standing dazed in the crowd of people he didn't know, lost in a whirlwind of shoving arms and hot breath, he thought for an odd second he was going to end up passing out – if it wasn't for who he caught sight of only a moment later, he might have actually gone through with it.

"Wakko!"

He'd caught a glimpse of him in the corner. He was sitting by the far wall by ivy covered pillar, looking very shaken up but very much alive. Yakko hurried over as quickly as he could, hardly even noticing that he was shoving people out of the way to get there. Somebody he'd pushed angrily yelled something in his ear but he was too overwhelmed to think about it. When he got closer to his brother, Yakko wasn't surprised to see that he was wearing a familiar red baseball cap and a long sleeve blue shirt. The only thing that made it unfamiliar now however, was the fact that the front of it was now entirely caked in red. Yakko's heart skipped a beat when he noticed that Wakko's nose was crushed and slightly off-center, blood dripping out like ink from a broken bottle. He almost looked like a small puppy that had been kicked around in a crowd of strangers. Wakko was staring out into thin air and didn't make any sign of recognition when Yakko knelt down beside him.

"Oh my god Wakko, are you alright? Who did this to you?"

"I tried to get them to stop, Yakko," Wakko said rapidly. His eyes were wide and frightened. "It all happened so fast-

"Wakko, what the hell's going on? Are you alright? Come on buddy, tell me you're alright.

"There were so many people," said Wakko with his voice trembling. "Man, I mean, everybody just started screaming. I couldn't do anything to stop it, you know? Then there was this one guy who kept yelling and shoving everyone out of the way. Then there were like twenty guys trying to break through the door and one of them shoved Dot and-

"Wakko, are you alright? Where's your sister?

"And then I tried to calm things down, you know, but he just kept shoving everybody out of the way. Then he turned to me and-

_"Wakko, for Christ sake, answer me!"_

"Um yeah, I'm fine," Wakko muttered. He blinked and looked at his brother in awe. It was almost like he'd just realized he was there. "Man, the guy over there just knocked the lights out of me. I didn't see it coming."

"Where's Dot?"

"She's over there by that bunch of people trying to kill each other," Wakko said. "I think she's trying to get everyone to calm down. It's not really working if you want to know the truth."

"Well, with that out of the way," Yakko continued. "Could you politely fill me on why we're at a rundown Marriott in the middle of nowhere?

"It's the Valanado," Wakko said simply.

Yakko stared. "What?

"That's the name of the hotel," Wakko said as he wiped some of the blood off his face. "It's carved into the wall over there. It's not the Marriot. The Valanado Hotel."

He glanced up in confusion to see that his brother was right. There was a high stone arch that rose above the lobby, help up by Nordic pillars like some kind of architectural marvel. It wasn't easy to make out considering the arch nearly scraped the lobby's starry glass ceiling, but when you really looked at it, there was no denying the hotel's name carved there in thick gothic letters. There was no question – the two of them, along with everyone else unfortunate enough to be on the flight, was now at the Valanado Hotel.

"Next time we go to New York, we're taking the train," Yakko sighed.

He paused for a moment and took a good look at the blood leaking out of his brother's tomato red nose. For a second he considered checking it to see if anything was broken, but knowing what Wakko's reaction would be from their childhood visits to the doctor, he didn't see much of a point. When Wakko had gone for a checkup at the age of three, he'd done well for the first fifteen minutes. It wasn't until the notion of getting a booster shot had come up that he'd fought valiantly and screamed loud enough for everyone in California to hear him. The little guy had fought for a long time, even losing control at one point and nearly using his powers to send the doctor flying across the room into a bookshelf. He'd eventually had to be sedated by the entire medical staff with Yakko helping before they could make any progress. Wakko could take a bloody nose – it was just people fingering around with it that put him over the edge for some reason.

Yakko glanced around cautiously for a moment. In the back of his mind, he found himself remembering Woody Woodpecker and the cigarettes only moments ago – the ones that he'd pulled out from behind his back. Normally doing toon things was reserved for entertainment only and a handbook of laws made just about every variety of them illegal in public. With the situation however, a violation with the slight possibility of a court date was the last thing on his mind. Yakko quickly reached behind his back and retrieved a yellow cloth out of thin air at a speed that would have put any magician to shame.

"Look," Yakko said as he handed it to his brother. "Take this and keep it on the wound. Don't get in anybody else's way unless you have to. I'm going to go and try to talk some sense into your sister. Will you be all right over here?

"Yeah," Wakko said. "I'll be pretty content with sitting here and bleeding."

"Good to know," Yakko said exasperatedly. It didn't happen a lot but he'd forgotten that his brother could be awfully sarcastic is the situation called for it. "Give me ten minutes tops and I'll be back here.

"Faboo," Wakko said simply.

Yakko turned and started to walk away from the pillar. He moved across the room with a goal in mind now, scanning the room for a glimpse of black and white fur. People were flashing in front of him like some kind of manic circus. On one side was a raccoon in a fedora screaming at a panda and threatening him to back away. On another side was a teenage rabbit crying out for somebody as she struggled to see over the crowd. The whole scene made the idea of a funhouse even more imaginable.

"Hey, get the hell off of me, why don't ya?"

"It's a kidnapping! A goddamned kidnapping!"

"Somebody let me out of here!"

Suddenly a beaver - a brown one who looked oddly similar to the blonde one Yakko had befriended in the middle of the flight - swung in front of him with a wild look of panic in his eyes. He had unusually sharp teeth that jutted out of his mouth and a rattled look to him, almost like he hadn't properly slept in weeks. His hands latched onto Yakko's shoulders and pulled him forward with a desperate look in his eyes.

"Have you seen my brother?" the beaver cried. He was talking so fast all of his words blended together. "You've got to help me man, I can't find my brother anywhere!"

"What?" Yakko said immeadidly. He was so taken aback he couldn't give a real answer.

"Norb!" the beaver wailed out into the open. "Where are you Norb?"

Yakko stood awestruck in his tracks as the beaver took off in another direction. He started to move even quicker after a moment, locking his eyes on the large mob of toons still fighting by the welcoming desk. It was a strange slaughter of mallets and anvils flying in every direction, nobody managing to even get out a coherent thought before they were sent hurtling in the other direction. Yakko managed to get over just in time to see a screaming porcupine be clonked in the head with a flying hammer. The very sight of the whole thing made Yakko angry. He thought of all of them waking up in a strange new world and resorting to their first instincts, finding someone to blame just for the sake of it and not listening to a word anybody around them was saying. Yakko could accept people not willing to listen to the truth, but he couldn't take people not being willing to listen to each other. It was a problem that he knew well – lately, he'd faced it almost everyday.

It was a familiar voice in the midst that sent him in the right direction:

"…and if you're just going to waste your time tearing each other apart, please, be my guest!"

"Dot?"

"Yakko?"

"Dot!'

"Yakko!"

He'd found her standing on top of the check in desk at the welcoming booth, apparently trying in a failed effort to address everyone at once. He wasn't surprised that she was now wearing a pink skirt and a tacky daisy in her hair, but at the moment, it was the very least of his worries. She looked as angry as he'd last seen her and her adam's apple was trembling in her throat from all the yelling she was doing. When she saw her older brother however, her demeanor changed dramatically as she jumped down from the desk, yelping out and embracing him in a warm hug. It felt strange for a moment, especially since the last time he'd seen her, she'd been threatening to never speak to him again. It seemed like the relief of seeing him in one piece had overpowered anything else she was feeling.

"Oh thank God you're alright Yakko!" Dot cried. "We didn't see you anywhere when we woke up! We thought something horrible happening."

"I should be saying the same thing," Yakko said and even managed a small smile back at her. "What happened to you Dot? What are you doing over here?"

"Nothing happened," Dot said briskly. "Nothing happened at all. It just seems like the first perverted thought of half of the male population when trouble veers its ugly head is rescue the damsel in distress. One of those macho guys over there comes up and acts all noble. You know, grabbing my arm and stuff, giving the whole nine years about protecting me in the face of danger. Then I go and do the sensible thing and shove him away, telling him to back off he wants to keep his limbs intact. Then he acts all shocked and starts yelling at me, asking what the hell he did wrong. After that Wakko stepped in to say something and the guy just turned and punched him! He punched him right in the face, Yakko! What's that about?

"I saw him do it," a soft new voice said.

The voice came from several feet away and almost immeadidly, Yakko realized that Dot hadn't been alone in chastising everyone for fighting. Standing on top of the welcoming desk - and looking to Yakko like she'd just stepped out of an old photo album - was somebody who he not only hadn't seen in years but also hadn't planned on ever seeing again. With the screaming still going on in the background, he suddenly felt like he was at some kind of high school reunion that had gone incredibly wrong.

"Hi Yakko," Fifi LeFume said with a friendly smile that looked painfully forced. "Small world huh?"

"Fifi!" Yakko cried. "What are you doing here?"

"I ran into her on the plane before," Dot said quickly. "I found her wandering around in here a few minutes ago. She's going to New York too. That's not the point right now though, Yakko? What the hell's going on here? Is Wakko still over there?

"Wakko's fine," Yakko said. "I gave him a rag to clean up his face. Are you alright? How long have you been here?"

"I woke up about ten minutes ago," Dot said simply. "I think everyone just woke up scattered around on the floor here. I think a few people woke up in that hallway by the staircase though."

"And you're all right? You're not hurt or anything?"

"Yeah," Dot said. "I mean, yeah, as good as I can be anyway. I started feeling really lousy after I woke up. I feel like somebody cracked my head in with a mallet."

"Save the colorful analogies for later," Yakko said quickly. "Why's everyone fighting? What's going on here?"

"How should I know? I just dosed off for a few minutes when we were over New Mexico and I woke up lying on the floor here."

"So you have no idea what's going on?"

"No Yakko," Dot said sternly. "I have absolutely no idea what's going on, and honestly, the sooner you stop asking me these stupid questions the better."

There was a heavy silence that hung between them after this. Dot turned away from him with her lips pursed, staring out helplessly at the crowd fighting like she was standing behind a glass wall. For a second Yakko considered saying something to her but ended up at a loss for words. This was a rare thing for him, and oddly enough, it had been a frequent occurrence lately. He supposed it came mainly from nerves. While some people found unconditional comfort for their problems in drinking or overeating, Yakko's issues were remedied simply in the rare occasions that he didn't speak. He wondered what that said about him as a person. He wasn't able to think long about it however, seeing how his migraine was now returning full force. He brought his fingers to his temple and winced, feeling like he was recovering from the world's worst hangover.

"I want to go home," Dot said stiffly. "I wish I didn't get up this morning."

"And I want to know how we ended up here," Yakko said simply.

"Maybe this is a terrorist attack," Dot said in an awed kind of voice. "They have all those conspiracy theories on the history channel. Maybe they kidnapped us or something."

"Dot, listen to yourself. What kind of a terrorist would safely land a plane full of people?"

To this Dot didn't seem to have anything to say. The two of them stood there silently by the desk, watching mob psychology prove its virtues in front of them. The brawl had slowly turned into two separate sides taking turns swinging chairs and crowbars at each other. At one point, an oddball in the group even pull out a piano and chucked it through the air like it was featherlight.

"Look Dot, let's just look at the facts," Yakko said finally, trying to raise his voice over the commotion around him. "Just because we have a mob and a few overactive imaginations around here doesn't mean you can jump to conclusions. We need to get everyone on the same page here. Can you get everyone's attention?

"You'd have to start taking their blood samples to get the attention of these people," Dot said. "Besides, I don't have a megaphone or anything-

"Dot for the love of God, you're a toon. Start acting like one!"

"Oh right," Dot said awkwardly.

Yakko felt his eardrums pop as his sister let out a high pitched shriek that shook the entire room. The floor rumbled like a massive earthquake, in turn causing some toons to lose their balance and topple to the ground like figure skaters. There was a heart cracking sound as part of the high glass ceiling shattered above them instantly, caking the floor beneath in it what looked like dots of icing sugar. Some people started to yell for her to stop. Dot's wail continued for only another moment before she finally did stop, standing there looking bewildered and unsure of herself.

"That was the first time I did that since I was little," Dot muttered under her breath.

"Hey man," a squirrel who'd been fighting snapped. "Keep that chick of yours under control."

"She's not my girlfriend," Yakko shot back. "She's my sister. And she's a hell of a lot more qualified to deal with this than you are, so back off.

The squirrel glared harshly at him for a second before taking a step backward. The room was full of angry muttering now like a cloud of agitated bees., everyone's attention directed toward Yakko and Dot. Yakko noticed with some satisfaction that the fighting had abruptly ceased now that everyone had another common factor to be annoyed about. It was an old fashioned kind of mentality – fight fire with fire. People seemed to gathering near them now, relieved that somebody with a semblance of common sense had tried to stop the riot. Yakko caught sight of the beaver Norb and his brother standing nearby, the later of whom looked relatively calmer now that he'd apparently found who he'd been looking for. Norb himself was staring over at them with a look of mild amusement on his face, almost admiring Dot's handiwork.

"You know, I think my nose is alright after all," Wakko Warner said suddenly as he walked up beside them. He was still holding the rag to his face but looked in much better shape than he had a few minutes ago.

"Good to know," Yakko said.

"Take it," Dot hissed suddenly.

Yakko was taken aback. "Huh?"

He glanced down to her hand to see that she'd retrieved a toonish looking orange megaphone from behind her back and was holding it out to him. She wasn't smiling however and all the delight in finding her brother alive in the crowd of strangers had vanished. She looked doubtful and was staring at him with cold and calculating eyes.

"I said take it," Dot said. "I don't know what's happened to you in the last few years, but if you're willing to step up to the pedestal, then you're saying something for once. I don't want anymore of this all-talk, no action propaganda you've been spewing. If you're still my brother in there somewhere, take this megaphone and say something useful to everyone here."

Her words hurt but he didn't let it show. He stared at her coldly and accepted the megaphone in his gloved hand, cupping it up his mouth and pressing the button. There was a whiny sound of static for a second that rang throughout the room, registering more than a few complaints. Yakko blew into the microphone and took in a deep breath before he finally started talking.

"Attention everyone," Yakko's voice called across the room. "My name is Yakko Warner and I was a passenger on Lansing Flight 347. I know everyone here's just as confused as I am, but it's not going to do anybody any good if we just keep fighting. Nobody knows anymore than anybody else. The least we can do is sit down and figure out what's going on like sensible toons before we turn this into a full-out riot. I'm willing to listen if you're willing to talk.

"Do you know anyone who brought us here?" a duck standing near them called out. "Did you work with them?

"Sit down, shut up, and listen," Dot snapped.

The duck seemed taken aback and retreated almost immeadidly. Yakko noticed that a lot of people in the crowd seemed tense now, waiting for someone to say something and clear everything up in one grand stroke. A lot of them were taking special interest in Yakko now that he had the megaphone, staring between him and his siblings like they were about to issue some kind of commandment. It was like being propped up on stage without any lines in front of an audience. A long time ago, this kind of thing would have seemed like fun for Yakko Warner – maybe even invigorating. The stares he was getting now were different somehow though. He thought back to the stares of the movie star portraits in the hallway and resisted the urge to shiver.

"I need my medicine Yakko," Wakko said suddenly by Yakko's side. "They took my medicine away. It's not in my pocket anymore."

His brother was frightened and staring at him wide, expectant eyes. It was a face that Yakko, staring at him and trying to hold back a grimace, had seen many times before. It was the face that Wakko had made a few weeks ago during an argument with a cashier at a grocery store, eventually resulting in him ricocheting throughout the store and taking out the shelves and aisles like dominoes. It was the face that he'd made that one night that Dot had come home with one of her loser boyfriends and the guy had hit her in plain sight of her brother - the aforementioned boyfriend had ended up in the hospital wing shortly after with his leg broken in six places. It was even the face he made whenever you got him out of the house on Friday nights, away from playing the piano in the tower's living room, and living in his own little world. Wakko was scared and Yakko was plentifully aware of what would happen if he didn't stop it.

"You're fine. Just take deep breathes. The last thing we need right now is another episode."

"But-

"Listen Wakko, I have faith in you," Yakko said. "I've always had faith in you. You're fine. You've been said you were getting better for months, and you freaking out isn't what we need right now. We need to get everyone settled down here and I'm going to need you to help me. Can you do that?

"Yeah," Wakko said. He paused for a moment before continuing. "Yeah alright, I can do that."

"Let's just try to keep our heads here," Yakko said. He turned his attention back into the megaphone. "Alright everyone, now that we're all on the same page here, let's try to figure out what we know. We were about half an hour away from Albuquerque. I don't know about you, but I was leaving Burbank this morning. I had a two-way trip to New York that was going to stop in New Mexico for a couple of hours. The next thing I knew, I woke up here. Does anyone else have any input?

"What happened to our clothes?" somebody called out. "Why did somebody change my clothes?

"We'll figure that one out later," Yakko said quickly. He felt bad immeadidly after saying it, because in all honesty, it was one of his biggest questions too. "Right now, let's just focus on the basics. Somehow, they knocked all of us out on the plane. They either pumped in gas or brought down the cabin pressure, but either way, facts are facts. We were put to sleep and now we're here."

"So then we were kidnapped," a voice from the back called out. "There's no other explanation. The flight was a trap!"

"Let's not jump to conclusions…" Yakko said but then his voice trailed off. All around people were talking animatedly, compiling theories like there was no tomorrow. In the corner of his eye, Yakko noticed Woody Woodpecker walking alone down the stairs in the lobby's far corner, staring over at them with a sad and cynical smile as he smoked his cigarette. He didn't even walk over to them, instead deciding to simply sit in one of the lounge chairs against the wall. It was a clear that he had little interest in what was going on. Yakko didn't care though. Now that he'd gotten in a few good words, everything felt natural – he felt empowered, almost confident that people were actually willing to listen.

"I don't see any humans here, " Wakko said suddenly.

"That's because they're aren't any," Yakko said softly. It was something he'd noticed awhile ago but hearing it made it even worse.

"God, this is bad," Fifi sighed from behind them. She was resting her face in her hands. "This is really, really bad.

"Alright, everyone, listen up," Yakko called into the megaphone again. All the talking in the room ceased instantly as his voice cut through the air. "This is what we know so far. Somewhere between the New Mexico and California border, every toon on the plane was put to sleep. Sometime after that, every single human on the plane was let off somewhere. And then, sometime after that, they got us off the plane, changed our clothes, and brought us here. And that leads us to a bigger question – something we all should have sat down and asked each other instead of just fighting. Does anybody, absolutely anybody here, have the faintest idea of where we are right now?"

There was a lot of quiet muttering throughout the room but no real responses other than shrugs and blank stares. Everybody started to talk again, this time more enthusiastically. Part of Yakko had seen this reaction coming – almost expected it – but the other part couldn't help but feel crestfallen. When you were in a room with fifty other people and none of them had an answer, you knew something was seriously wrong.

"Maybe we should let them call a friend," Dot whispered.

"I hope we're still in California," Wakko said suddenly.

"I hope we're still on Earth," Fifi LeFume muttered.

There was a more amicable feeling in the air now that everyone had stopped fighting over nothing. People were beginning to hesitantly introduce themselves to each other, realizing the only thing they shared was the kinship that they had no idea where they were. Yakko glanced several feet away and spotted the same squirrel who'd yelled at him moments ago talking to Norb's brother in an offhand effort to make conversation.

"Start passing the megaphone around," Dot hissed in his ear. "You have everyone's attention now. Let them say what they want to say."

Yakko glanced around uneasily for a moment before noticing Fifi still standing behind them, relatively removed from the scenario and having resigned herself to staring silently into space. She looked startled when she realized he was staring at her and raised an eyebrow. Looking at her for that small second in time, Yakko couldn't help but feel a sad, quiet kind of nostalgia. Back when they were in school, Fifi LeFume had been a pleasant kind of girl who got along well with everybody, never doing anything outlandish or bold enough to really offend anyone. Her naïve attitude and the fact that she seemed to have a new crush every week had gotten tedious at times, but all in all, Yakko had always liked her – near the end of their days at school together, he'd even thought that she'd liked him a little.

Now there was a different kind of look on her face, a look of a weary person who was just starting to learn that life wasn't going to be what she'd hoped for. Trying his best to look past it, Yakko offered the megaphone out to her in response to her stare and even managed to smile. She nodded at him after a moment and accepted it – he couldn't help but notice that she didn't smile back at him.

"Is this thing on? Which button? What do you mean the red one? Oh, that one. Hey guys, my name's Fifi and I was going to spend a few weeks in the city and my friend Shirley was going to tag along with me. I got a letter from my Uncle Pepé a few days ago inviting me to chill out in his loft in Soho for a few weeks and get out of the heat that's been going on back home. I said yes without really thinking about it. I mean, I figured I'd just go out there for the hell of it. Meet some cute University guys, have a few good drinks, just kind of take it easy for awhile. I think the whole thing was kind of weird now that I look back at it though. I mean, my uncle and I are close and everything, but I haven't talked to him since Christmas two years ago." She paused for a moment. "I can't find Shirley anywhere now. Does anybody else want to go?

She ended up passing the megaphone back over to the three of them.

"Hi," Wakko said as he accepted the megaphone with some reluctance. "Um, my name's Wakko. Wakko Warner, I mean. Yakko's my brother, but I guess you already knew that, huh? Anyway, I was going with him to New York because he found a couple of vacancies at this safe place thing and wanted to get us out of the city. We don't like what's going on there either so, um, yeah. I think it's just a temporary thing though. Does anyone else want to to talk?"

The spiel continued as the megaphone passed itself around the room. A squirrel had received a letter saying that her sister-in-law had just given birth to a nephew in Manhatten. An intimidating looking gorilla mentioned that he'd been offered a job as a stripclub bouncer by his cousin. A paranoid looking chipmunk explained that he was on parole and was going to visit his children. The stories went on and on and it wasn't long until they all started to blend together.

They eventually reached the blonde beaver Norb and his brown furred brother. Yakko listened as Norb quickly introduced himself and gave a familiar story about how he'd been offered a job at some big name hospital in New York and that his brother was tagging along. The megaphone didn't even make it all the way around before everybody got the gist of things and there wasn't any point in talking anymore. Only a few more stories followed after that before the megaphone ended up back in Yakko's hand – there wasn't any need to talk any more as dull murmering filled the room, everybody taking in what they'd just learned at different times.

"Talk about a coincidence," Dot said with a shiver.

"This isn't a coincidence," Wakko said. "Somebody's getting their kicks out of this. Hey, are you alright Yakko? You're not talking so you're either dead, asleep, or something's really wrong."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Yakko said after a moment. He was so busy thinking that he didn't know what to say. "I guess I'm just a little spooked about all of th-

His words were cut off by a thunderous crashing sound that echoed throughout the lobby, the aftershock ringing like the crack of a baseball bat at a stadium. It cut the commotion in the room like a machete, and almost immeadidly, everybody's head turned to the source of where it had come from - the hallway at the top of the staircase. The silence ended abruptly with the sound of metallic clanking echoing down the hallway, almost like a heavy luggage cart at an airport being wheeled down a terminal. It was an oddly repetitive sound, two loud bangs followed by a rapid clap, that only started to grow louder after it started. Everybody in the room started to tense up and some of them began to back away from the stairwell - in an odd moment that Yakko somehow noticed, Dot moved instinctively moved closer to him.

"You know," Wakko said uneasily. "I really think now would be a good time to leav-

He didn't even get a chance to finish. The stairwell was suddenly flanked by what looked like over fifty men wearing camouflage. They marched down the staircase in two single file lines - twenty-five on each side - and their faces were so unreadable and cold that they could have been sculpted in clay. Everyone in the room began to back away from the staircase as the men started to march into the lobby, parting for like the Red Sea separating for Moses. A few people started to scream. A small squadron of the soldiers was carrying a heavy cart of duffel bags down the staircase with some difficulty, grunting but still trying to keep their composure. Even though he couldn't help but feel intimidated, Yakko did his best to stand tall and unwavering as he watched the two lines walk in. There had to be an explanation coming - there just had to be.

The two lines of soldiers had finally stopped and were standing fashionably, side-by-side like wind up dolls by the stairwell. Two figures began to step down the staircase together like dark silhouettes, one of them very short and one of them very tall. The short one was the one that came into the light first. He was a small man with a bronzed face that could have been from any ethnicity in the world, his receding hair splayed up into black tufts above a wide acne scarred forehead. He had a noticeable limp as he walked and he was putting considerable faith in the banister to get down into the lobby.

The taller one, the one that was a toon, wasn't using the banister. He walked upright and confident, almost taking his time as he strode down the stairs. In fact, out of everything that he'd seen so far upon waking up at the strange Valanado Hotel, the other person was what shocked Yakko most of all.

"It's him," Yakko blurted out. He didn't mean to say it out loud but it somehow ended up coming out.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the shorter man said in a surprisingly loud voice. "My name is Amos Dogen and I am the owner of this hotel. This is my business partner Mr. Wile E. Coyote, and in a very, very short time, things around here are going to get very, very interesting."

* * *

_A/N: Thanks a lot to everyone who reviewed, whether it be positive or not. Also, sorry if this chapter was a bit...well… long. I had to include a lot of information and there really wasn't any way to break it up . As you can probably tell though, something really, really bad is about to happen. On the up side though, if you have any questions along the lines of...well… "what the hell is going on?" the odds are that they'll all be answered in the next chapter._


	5. Chapter 5

Everyone was quickly huddled together by the soldiers and hurried up the staircase like a herd of cattle, taking steps forward with the persistence of the world's slowest moving stream. There didn't seem to be any clear end to the hallway – it snaked its way past doors and paintings with old movie stars grinning at them, their smiles sardonic and cold on their black-and-white faces. Wile. E and the other man quickly found a spot at the front of the line, moving with a sense of purpose as the squadrons of soldiers flanked the group of toons on either side.

"Keep on moving," one of the soldiers called out. "We have to get all of you in the ballroom by midnight and we can't waste any time. Quit straggling and pick up the pace."

"You know, they really don't make actresses like they used to," Dot Warner said blankly as they walked. She'd taken strange interest in the portaits on the wall. "Back then it was just about being natural and smiling for the camera. Back then you could tell there was actually a person behind that pretty little face; back then you knew that they were actually having fun."

The three of them were walking in the midst of the crowd, pressed forward by the mob around them. Yakko Warner listened to his sister with a disquieting sense of pity. Her lip was quivering and she seemed to be staring out into space, talking into thin air and really not making any real coherent sense. Yakko wasn't really entirely sure if she even knew he was listening to her. His eyes shot around like a guerilla sniper in a tree, catching quick glimpses of faces in the crowd that weren't very different than his sister's. When he glanced back at her, he saw with uneasiness that her eyes were now shining with tears.

"But that's all gone now, isn't it?" Dot rambled on. "Now it's just a bunch of beach bunny bimbos with spray on tans and enough plastic surgery to open a wax museum. I mean, sure, here and there you can find a face that's naturally pretty but that's just… just…"

That was when she broke down and started to cry. Yakko watched rigidly as her head bowed down toward the ground and she started to cry, somehow still walking onward with a crowd of people paying absolutely no attention to her at all. Yakko instinctively moved closer to her and put a gloved hand reassuringly over her shoulder, half expecting her to shake him off immeadidly – she didn't. It had to be the only moment in the last few days where she hadn't rejected his efforts to be nice to her. The hallway's glass ceiling above them flashed moonlight on her sobbing face.

"It'll be all right, Dot," Yakko said quickly. He knew it was terrible advice but he couldn't help it. "Just try to mellow out.

"I woke up this morning in my room, Yakko," Dot sobbed. "We all woke up in our house this morning. How did we end up here?

"You inkblots like it around here so much you're going to stick around all day?" a soldier nearby them snapped. "Keep moving and stay to the left. I have a golden paycheck waiting for me downstairs and I'm not going to blow it off on account of a couple of funny paper comic strips slowing me down.

"That asshole," Dot muttered. She sniffled and wiped away some of her tears. "One more word from any of those bozos and I'm going to get unladylike. Either that or I'm going to file a lawsuit when this is all over.

"I really don't think Colonel Sanders is worth a court case, Dot."

"Oh, I wouldn't expect a court case anytime soon, Yakko," Dot said darkly. She shook his hand off and the sadness in her voice vanished in an instant as she turned to glare at him. "You see, in the United States, we have something ever so wonderful called the judicial system, and in it, you're obliged to get a lawyer. I don't know how these things work for you on Planet Hollywood, but back in reality, they cost money. And for some reason or another, the Warner vault's been a bit empty as of, say, your radio show's last broadcast - the one you made l_ast_ weekend. Care to tell me why?

"Looks like you learned something at school after all," Yakko said. He paused for a moment and sighed before continuing. "Look Dot, I'll admit I'm scared. You want me to come out and say it? I'm terrified and I feel guiltier right now than a lifeboat paddler on the Titanic. I'd appreciate it if you just gave me some time to think, alright?"

"Oh great," Dot said harshly. "Yakko Warner's in his transitional period! A few more hours for him to stop and think, that is if we're not already dead by then! By the time you have a plan we'll probably already be dissected for science or whatever the hell they want to do to us! What's your plan this time, genius? Another batch of plane tickets to fly us somewhere even worse than this? Hey Fifi, where are you going?

They'd just caught sight of her shouldering her way away from them, forcing her way through the crowd with a manic kind of persistence in her eyes. Fifi LeFume glanced back at them reassuringly and even managed to flash a thumbs-up.

"To get some answers," Fifi called back at them.

"Well, there we go," Dot said firmly as their friend vanished. "There's someone who knows what they're doing! There's someone who's finally ready to go out and do something! How does that make you feel, big brother?"

"It makes me feel thankful that Fifi LeFume isn't my sister," Yakko said simply. "It makes me feel glad to know that my own sister isn't the kind of person to push their way through a crowd of people with guns just to prove a point. It makes me thankful that my sister isn't going to go out and get shot for playing the hero. And on the subject of my sister, she has another thing coming if she thinks that I'm ever paying for her airfare again. For the love of God Dot, what kind of person needs four suitcases full of clothes?

"I'm a person with priorities," Dot said stiffly. She said it in a way that made her sound like a thirty year old aristocrat. "And I should have expected you to just beat around the bush at a time like this. Clothes - really Yakko? Are my clothes the biggest problem you can think of right now? Stop joking around and grow up."

"Comedy's just seriousness with all the boring stuff cut out," Yakko replied. He wasn't really listening anymore and was instead craning his neck over the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the coyote walking at the front of the line.

"Whatever," Dot sighed. She took in a deep breath. "God, I feel like I'm walking through a funhouse. Scooby Doo and the Haunted Hotel or something. Does anyone have the time?"

"We're not in California anymore," Wakko Warner said suddenly.

He'd been walking beside them in utter silence. Hearing him speak was jarring to Yakko somehow, almost making everything seem much more irrefutable in one stroke. In between his brother's signature red hat on one side and the tacky daisy in his sister's hair on his other, Yakko almost felt like he was slowly stepping into a time machine.

"I must have missed the yellow brick road back in the lobby," Yakko said.

"No, I really mean it," Wakko said with a rare moment of complete seriousness in his voice. "We're not in New York, we're not in Santa Fe, and we're definitely not in Burbank. It's the sky - the glass ceiling up there, I mean. You can see stars out there, and if you see stars, that means you can't be anywhere near the city. They draw you in with their flashing lights and the nightlife, but when it really comes down to it, there's so many skyscrapers that you can't even see stars. That's what I never liked about living near Hollywood.

Yakko couldn't deny that he was impressed. "How often do you think about this stuff?

"Right now we're walking through the Galavan Wing", the short man called out from the front of the line. "It was built in 1925 by a French architect with one arm. It was only refurbished just recently. The portraits on the wall have always had a special place in my heart. I've been collecting them for years. I like to stop and think sometimes that there isn't one actor from the golden age that I don't have up there. They're priceless to me. So priceless, in fact, that I've actually considered being buried with them when the time comes. They are my collection after all. Now please, if you'll just follow me down the next corridor…

It was the second time that the man had spoken since they'd started walking. He had a strange speech pattern, almost akin to someone who didn't know English very well but still made a valiant effort to use big words. The man was standing at the front of the line, obscured through a sea of faces and bodies with only his voice traveling back down the corridor like hot air in a chimney. Every so often Yakko would stand on his tiptoes and scan his eyes over the crowd to get a clear view of the front – and it wasn't even to catch a glimpse of the short man in question. It was to catch a glimpse of a certain coyote walking beside him.

"That guy up there's a creep," Dot said with a hint of disgust in her voice.

"The coyote's creepier," Yakko replied.

"Wile. E Coyote," Dot mused. "I wonder what he's doing here. The guy's got to be what, at least sixty by now? The guy doesn't really say much does he? He's letting the other guy do all the talking.

"They'll both be doing a lot of talking soon if they don't start making sense."

"Right," Dot said with an eye roll. "Because you'll totally be the one to stand up and say something about i-

"For the love of God Dot!" Wakko cried. "Cut it out already. We're all in the same boat as you. Stop ganging up on Yakko every time you get scared. It's not solving anything and you know it!"

"Fair enough," Dot sighed. It seemed like she was slowly losing the enthusiasm to argue. "How's not having the medicine treating you, Wakko? Does your head still hurt?"

Their voices trailed off in Yakko's head as they kept walking together. He looked around at everything like a panoramic picture, almost waiting for the moment everything would come together spontaneously and make sense – it didn't happen. He looked at all of the frightened people around him for a long time, and almost immeadidly afterward, felt the urge to do something drastic. What was happening wasn't an easy scene for someone like Yakko Warner to comprehend – a bunch of directionless people being controlled like marionettes on strings with nobody to speak up for them. It almost went against everything that he believed in. For a moment he considered saying something useful, something that would get them all to stop worrying, but for some reason, he just couldn't get the words out - they were caught in his throat like stubborn notes in a clarinet.

"I'm used to it anyway," Dot was saying now. "My head hurting, I mean. I've been getting headaches a lot lately. There's some nights where I don't sleep because there's too much going on and I don't want to miss out on it. You know, I didn't mean to walk out on you guys the way I did. Everything's just been really complicated lately. I can't really explain it, but if you guys just told me you needed help paying the bills, I definitely would have been arou-

"We couldn't call you," Yakko said darkly. "You disconnected your phone."

"You know, I really wish I was back at home right now," Wakko said wistfully. It was a painfully obvious effort to get them to stop fighting. "If it's not even midnight yet, I'd probably still be awake. There was a carton of lo mein takeout in the fridge the last time I checked. I'd probably be eating it cold and watching a movie or something.

"I think there was a concert or something in town," Dot said. "One of those stupid heavy-metal vomit ones. I'm not big on that stuff but my friends were talking about going down to see it and then partying until the morning. You know, I didn't really even get a chance to say goodbye to any of them." She paused for a moment. "This is all real, isn't it?

"Yeah," Yakko said. He wasn't really sure how to respond. "Yeah, this is all real.

Dot somehow managed to smile. "I guess staying at that school might have been a good idea after all, huh?

"We're almost at the ballroom now!" the short man called out. "I hope all of you are enjoying the architecture in the wing. I'm almost sure you'll never see anything like it again. It's from a time long gone – a time that's most likely not going to be returning anytime soon! It's nice to stop and appreciate the small things!"

"You're an asshole!" someone beside them screamed.

It was Norb's brother - the beaver with the brown fur that Yakko had run into in the lobby - standing nearby with his tired looking eyes now looking enraged as he tried to see over the crowd. Norb himself was trailing slightly behind his brown furred brother, wearing a face that was frightenly different than the one that Yakko had seen on the airplane. It was a face that said many things with only one glance. There weren't going to be any more twirling glasses of ginger ale or amicable small talk before they landed safely in New York. It only took one look to realize that both of the beavers were frightened out of their minds – the only difference was that one of them was making an effort not to show it.

"Let it go Daggett," Norb sighed. "It's not worth it. Hey Yakko, long time no see. I didn't know there were three of you."

"I'm going to guess you don't know what's going on either?" Yakko asked.

"No mon ami, as a matter of fact I don't. Hey, have you looked at all of these pictures on the wall? I always thought Marilyn Monroe was kind of overrated. I always thought she looked like more of a drag queen than an overhyped sex symbol. On the other hand, if you want to see some real _bonzetti_ you have to go and look at Jessica Rabbit or June Allyson but that's really just-

"Ignore him," his brother said quickly. "He's nuts. If you get him scared enough he'll just sit and talk to himself for hours.

"I said let it go, Dag," Norb sighed. "I told you before, I'm trying to think. Thanks for the ginger ale by the way."

Yakko shrugged. "No problem I guess."

The two of them moved up into the crowd slightly and vanished from the view of the Warner siblings. Dot eyed her brother skeptically the moment that they were gone.

"What is it with you attracting complete whackjobs everywhere you go? " Dot asked.

"He's not a whackjob," Yakko said. "He's actually a nice guy. I sat next to him on the flight. As for the attracting whackjobs part, it's either charisma or the fact that crazy people are the easiest ones to talk to. At least they're willing to listen to you most of the time.

Dot sniffed. "Glad to know you're getting to know your own kind."

She turned away from her brothers and started to walk on her own, forming her own one-man vanguard away from everyone else. Yakko tried to think of something to say again, anything to remedy the situation, but incredibly enough words had now become a stubborn ordeal from him. It was almost like some kind of mental vacuum had wiped out all the confidence in his mind – either that, or he was just trying not to show that he was as scared as everybody else.

"Just let her simmer down," Wakko said gently as she walked away. "She wants someone to blame but she doesn't want it to be herself – you're just the one that fits the bill the most. You're better off just letting her blow off steam for a little bit."

Yakko forced a smile. "Thanks for not tearing my head off after all of this, Wakko. It means a lot."

"Hey, we need someone around to pay for the food," Wakko said brightly. He said it with a smile but his face seemed to darken awkwardly a moment later. "You know what, I'll take that one back. Stupid thing to say. I guess joking around isn't really the best idea right now, huh?

"At least it makes things a little more normal around here.

"Hey, since when has our family ever been normal?" Wakko said. "As far as I'm concerned, we've never been exactly what I'd call laidback. Maybe everyone else is just too boring.

Yakko nodded vacantly at his brother but didn't quite process his words. He'd suddenly been struck with an idea – it was an unusually simple one and it came to him in quick flashes like a film strip. One was Wakko in the terminal of the airport, flashing his brother a grin as he trekked off to the pharmancy. Then there was Yakko returning with a small vial of pills that his brother had popped in the passing years with the same kind of enthusiasm as hard candy. He thought about that vial of pills sitting on his brother's bedside table at home or in the glove compartment of their car, following him everywhere he went like some kind of necessary evil. Then, echoing and seeming very distant, he heard Dot's voice from a long time ago: _His outbursts are getting worse…._

"That's a good way to look at it," Yakko said after a moment. "Say Wakko, do you think you could-

"What?"

"Well, do you think you could…well….I mean…. "

"Oh that," Wakko said softly. "You know, it's kind of funny. I mean, you give me a bunch of psychiatric appointments, you pop me pills like there's no tomorrow, you go on your merry way like I'm getting better every day, and when the opportunity finally comes up, you actually want me to have an outburst?

Yakko was taken aback. "Listen Wakko, I-

"Hey, don't sweat it," Wakko laughed. "I know what you mean. I mean, hey, I was just thinking about it a few minutes ago to be honest. But it's not like that – it doesn't work that way. I'm not a bulldozer that you can just rent out anytime you want. It's just sort of something that happens at random. One second everything's fine and dandy and the next I'm leveling an entire supermarket to the ground."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up over that one," Yakko said. "That wasn't your fault. You were having a bad day anyw-

"They were out of fat-free yogurt and my credit card was messed up at checkout," Wakko said simply. "The last thing I remember is feeling annoyed. The next thing I know I'm ricocheting like some kind of screwball pinball off the walls and turning the dairy aisle into a milkshake. You were there so you know the facts. I broke every window in the air by the time it was over – nobody got hurt, thank God. I guess I shouldn't have been that surprised when the manager was mad, but the more he yelled at me, the more I kept thinking he just didn't get it. I mean, I'm sure it happens to other toons, but I'm pretty much a one-man freak show. It doesn't matter if I'm angry, or confused, or anything else. I can't control it; it's just something that kind of happens.

"Hey relax," Yakko said. "The more I think about it, turning into a human pinball in front of a bunch of stone cold hearted soldiers with guns wasn't one of my best ideas.

"Yeah I guess," Wakko said. He paused for a moment. "Why are we wearing our old clothes, Yakko?

"I'll make that my first question when someone works up the guts to start talking."

There was suddenly a dramatic halt in the line like they'd reached a dead end. Toons began to scan their eyes over their neighbors with a frightened kind of eagerness, almost like they'd reached the pinnacle of answers for every single question that they had. It was the short man at the front of the line that finally broke the silence:

"We're here."

* * *

The hallway emptied out into an archway like the undergrowth of a coliseum. On the other side was a ballroom with a ceiling that rose for stories, pillars of gold holding up hotel room balconies on the wall like tight little awnings covered in ivy. The room seemed to stretch for what looked like half a football field, the centerpiece being a large oak dining table that looked like it had been laid out for some kind of elaborate dinner party. Yakko noticed with mild interest that some toons were already on the room and sitting down, apparently having arrived earlier than them but still looking just as anxious. The golden floor and the fact that the whole room seemed to have a glowing aura to it gave it the surreal quality of a dream.

It was what Yakko noticed after the immediate shock of the ballroom that really surprised him. For a bizarre reason, an entire feast had been laid out on the table like the world's largest Thanksgiving dinner. On one side was a batch of lasagnas that looked as soft as mattresses, surrounded by bowls of stew that seemed to be obscurely foreign. A little further down was a cluster of steaks and chickens, overshadowed by what looked like a roasted pig complete with an apple in its bloated mouth. Rows of wine glasses and plates sat in front of each chair, gleaming in the golden aura of the room. The food itself stretched on and on, and out of pure shock, Yakko had to do a double take to truly believe he was even seeing it at all.

"Please everyone, make yourselves at home!" the short said. "Sit, sit! This is a time for celebration and we're not going to waste a minute of it! A little wine, a little steak, and all your problems will seem insignificant. Please, try to enjoy yourselves. I know I'll try to. My name is Amos Dogen for those of you that have forgotten."

"Maybe this place isn't that bad after all," Wakko said. He'd locked his eyes on the roast pig in the middle of the table.

"I've seen a lot of weird things," Yakko said. "But I think a tea party at gunpoint has to be a new one."

Dot pursed her lips. "There's no way I'm eating any of that food."

"Suit yourself," Wakko said brightly. "More for me then!"

The two of them were left powerless as their brother strode off toward the table with his tongue hanging out of his mouth more than ever – he wasn't the only one to walk forward either. While some toons approached the table with varying levels of hesitance, there seemed to be a minority that sat down eagerly and accepted the food like a peace offering that everything was going to be alright. With that being said, there were still a large group standing near the archway – Yakko and Dot among them – who aptly refused to move at all. Yakko caught sight of Wile. E and Dogen taking their seats at the very end of the table beside each other, not even bothering to speak to one another – if there was anything worth planning for them, it had already done beforehand.

"Come on," Yakko sighed. "We better step in before Wakko goes and eats himself into a coma."

They followed their brother and cautiously approached the table. With strength guaranteed in numbers, Yakko couldn't help but notice quiet friendships forming in the room with toons choosing to sit down next to anyone they'd spoken to throughout the whole ordeal, breaking off into selective little groups and kinships like a grade school cafeteria. Yakko found his own group in his siblings, Norb and his brother Daggett, and Fifi LeFume, the later of whom had just rejoined them and looked reasonably agitated that she hadn't found the answers she'd been looking for. Yakko locked eyes on the group of open seats beside Wile. E, and almost instinctively, began to led to their small group toward the end of the table without a second thought. It wasn't until he finally reached them that an unmistakably familiar boyish voice cut through the air:

"Hey guys!"

"You've got to be kidding me," Dot muttered.

Looking back at it now, Yakko would never understand why he'd been so surprised to see them sitting there. It should have no different than the feeling of bumping into an old friend at the grocery store, but with two of his closest childhood friends suddenly sitting in front of him like they'd practically been pulled out of a photograph – one wearing a familiar yellow outfit with the other wearing a red and blue sweatshirt - it only seemed like a natural reaction for Yakko to be shocked.

"You know, I really have to hand it to them for getting all of us together," Babs Bunny was saying when they approached. "I mean, hey, it was really generous to plan this little meet and great. Although meet and greet doesn't really fit this whole fiasco that well does it? No, not at all. On the other hand though, it's not like collaborative kidnapping really rolls off the tongue that well." She suddenly stopped talking and looked around in slight embarrassment, almost like she'd just realized they were listening to her rant. "Oh, hey guys! Long time no see."

"Man, it's great to see you guys again!" Buster Bunny said excitedly. "Here, there's a few chairs over on this side. I'll go and pull em up for ya. Wow, it's gotta be years since the last time I saw you guys. What was it? That time we all went bowling when you turned twenty-one?

"You didn't even write me a card when I turned twenty one," Yakko said with a small smirk as he sat down beside them. He know it wasn't any time at all for small talk but seeing a familiar face had given him a quiet sense of relief. "And we didn't even go bowling the last time I saw you. It was the Christmas party at the tower a few years back. The one where you drank so much vodka mixed with carrot juice that you threw up all over the sofa. You were so out of it that we all had to help you shimmy down the ladder outside to get home." He paused for a moment. "You know, it's great to see you're not fazed by any of this at all.

"Oh yeah, that was a blast!" Buster said with what almost looked like a permanent smile on his face. It seemed like he'd completely ignored Yakko's last sentence. "Too bad you guys went and stopped having those get togethers. I'll be sure to send you a Christmas card next year to knock some holiday spirit into you sad saps. And as for being fazed by any of this, consider me someone who lives in the moment. Trust me, I'm a guaranteed optimist when it comes down to it. If I'm sitting at a table with a five-star meal in front of me and surrounded by friends, it's a picture perfect night in my book.

The others quickly took their seats nearby in a tight circle at the end of the table with Wakko sliding in beside Babs, Dot sliding in across from Buster, and Norb and his brother sitting just out of earshot with Fifi joining them. There was an unpleasant kind of commotion in the room as chair legs skidded on the ballroom floor with everybody reluctantly taking their seats, the soldiers eyeing them from the sidelines like spectators at a baseball game. It was an awkward moment where everyone sat in a habitual silence and picked at the food in front of them, some of them eating while others stole glances at the soldiers and talked in solemn voices to anyone sitting nearby. It was Dot who managed to sum everything up perfectly.

"I feel like I'm in a nightmare," Dot said as she sat down. "Only for some reason it's a high school reunion. And for some reason, people have guns."

"Forget reunion," Babs said coldly. "You were just kidnapped, Buster. _Kidnapped._ Doesn't that mean anything to you?

"Ah come on Babs, where's your sense of adventure?" Buster said as he waved his fork in the air. "For all we know there could be life changing stuff going on here! Who knows? Maybe we'll all get refunds on our plane tickets!'

Babs smiled. "I guess you guys see what I have to deal with."

"You should stop by and visit our house sometime," Dot said grimly. Her appetite got the better of her as she reluctantly helped herself to ravioli.

Yakko took the opportunity to turn away from the others and finally be only a seat away from Wile. E Coyote. Rather than help himself to food, the coyote was sitting like a statue and simply gazing around the room with sly eyes that seemed built like flickering light bulbs. It seemed out of place with all the commotion that was going on, almost like he was trying to prove some kind of cryptic point. He didn't even take notice of Yakko blatantly staring at him.

"You want to start talking?" Yakko said.

The coyote didn't respond as his eyes simply passed by Yakko without a second thought. He seemed to take strange interest in the soldiers on the sideline, watching them speak conspicuously to each other as they glanced at the odd festivities going on at the table. He didn't even say anything when Yakko waved his hand in front of his face, doing his best to elicit some kind of discernible response. The very injustice of it made Yakko furious for some reason.

He glared. "I'm going to guess you're aphasic or think I'm stupid, and for some reason I'm not leaning much toward the first one.

"Mr. Coyote," Dogen cut it. "Has decided to take a….how should I put it….._vow of silence_ for the evening? I'm not going to put my foot in to stop anything, but I suggest you just try to enjoy yourself for the evening and leave him alone. I'm sure the food Lansing Airlines serves isn't anything up to par with what we have here. My head chef was considered at one time to be the Wolfgang Puck of Lithuania. I'd recommend the salmon. It's delicious – it almost melts in your mouth."

"I'm not eating your food," Yakko said instinctively.

"Well, nobody here is going to force feed you," Dogen said with his eyes twinkling. "But you won't be getting dessert."

Yakko sighed and turned back to face the others. The first thing he caught sight of was Wakko sitting beside him and stuffing his mouth with what almost seemed like a physically impossible amount of food. The moment he looked at him, his brother was gnawing the meat off a chicken bone like he hadn't eaten properly in months. He discarded the bone to the plate immeadidly and began spooning ravioli into his mouth with machine gun rapidity.

"Looks like someone else just hopped on the Buster Bunny Express," Yakko said exasperatedly. "Come on Wakko, how can you just sit here and eat that like nothing's bothering you?

"I don't know about you," Wakko said after swallowing a mouth full of food. "But fried cheese ravioli really seemed like something that was going to jump and rip my face off. You should try some of the chicken. It's actually pretty good."

The meal went on in a routine fashion that was troubling at the same time. As more people began to eat, the talk almost became casual to the point where it could have simply been a group of friends having a dinner party. While this might have been reassuring for some, it was frightened Yakko more than anything else. The idea that people were being casual, actually accustomed to what was going on, was a disturbing idea – not only disturbing, but probably exactly what whoever had planned the dinner had been hoping for. His appetite ended up getting the better of him fifteen minutes later when he helped himself to a bite of salmon – even with the situation, he couldn't deny the fact that he hadn't properly eaten since before coming to the airport. He listened to the others talking around him, occasionally joining in enthusiastically but feeling too worried to joke around much anymore.

"I mean, it's nice living in the city when you really look at it," Buster said later as he cut his steak. "Especially a place like Burbank. Good clubs, good eats, good people. I mean, sure, you have to be on your feet to get around but that's not saying you can't go out and have a good time. I work a few part times jobs in the week so I'll have something to do, but when the stars come out at night, it's a different story. You have to make your life worth living. Want some pork, Dot?

"You don't have any idea how often I hear this crap," Babs sighed as she rested her face in her hands.

Yakko somehow managed to smile. "How have things been going for you, Babs?"

"I can't tell if I'm a girlfriend, a babysitter, or a chaperone. In the end though, I guess that's the point. Maybe that's when you know you've met someone really special. I've been sticking to acting for a while. I've tried to get into a few plays and stuff in the area, but it's a pretty hard business. A director's going to take a human who looks like a mannequin over a little pink bunny any day. Then again, maybe I shouldn't be the one talking. I heard about what happened with your radio show. I even considered calling you up about it."

"It's no big deal," Yakko said quickly. "Really, it was just a stupid mistake.

Babs raised an eyebrow. "I heard the police were at your door before you got home."

"Alright, it was a big deal," Yakko sighed. "And to top it off, it's a big deal that I've been thinking about non stop for the last week. I guess I have to learn to keep my mouth shut.

"Yakko Warner keeping his mouth shut," Babs said dreamily. She sighed and cupped her hands on her face. "God, I can't believe this.

"What do you mean?"

"We're acting normal," Babs said. "I can't believe we're all actually acting normal. Just look around."

"What do you expect?" Yakko asked. "Fireworks going off?

"Anything. I expect people to stand up for themselves and admit that they're scared. I expect us to not sit down calmly the first time things look like they're going in the right direction. I expect us to actually say something instead of just smiling at our old friends and guzzling down lasagna like we're at some kind of high-end fancy-shmancy dinner party. I expect us to turn around and lock those G.I Joe dolls in the eyes, spit in this fabulous five-course meal, and behave like people who have just been kidnapped and plucked out their lives."

Yakko shrugged. "Maybe you're setting your standards a little to high."

"Maybe yours are just too low," Babs shot back. "Besides, it's not like I can eat any of this food anyway. I've been a vegetarian for the last five years.

"You know, most vegetarians look so much like the food they eat that you could go right out and can classify as cannibals.

"I don't have anything against eating meat," Babs said. "I'd just rather eat stuff that came naturally from the earth than dig a grave of cholesterol with a knife and a fork like your brother over there. Besides, it's criminal what they do to half of those critters they fry up.

"Babs," Yakko said. "If slaughterhouses had glass walls everyone in the world would be a vegetarian. You can find a reason not to eat everything if you try hard enough."

"So what now?" Babs said angrily. "Are you supporting this stupid meal they gave us now?

"No," Yakko said bewildered. "I just thought I'd offer my two cents. But now I'm just getting another person sidetracked. What were you saying?

"Sorry," Amos Dogen cut in. "But I couldn't help but overhear. Are you not enjoying the food?

"Oh, I'm sure it's great," Babs said harshly. "Really, it looks perfectly edible. It's just not within my morals to eat appetizers off a plate served by people that drug and kidnap me.

"As much as you might not trust me," Dogen went on. "I'd like to let you know that my chefs aren't paid very well and still do a very fine job. This wine itself was imported all the way from Spain just for this occasion. While it doesn't matter to me in the slightest, the least I can ask from you is just a sip of wine."

Yakko watched as Babs skeptically eyed the tall glass of red wine sitting just beside her plate. After what looked like a difficult decision, she merely rolled her eyes and sighed, bringing the glass to her lips to drink. It only seemed like a split second before a wave of revulsion swept across her face like somebody suffering from seasickness. She pulled the glass away and brought it back to the table, swallowing in what looked like a long struggle. Yakko watched the wine swish in the glass like fresh ocean brine.

Babs grimaced. "This tastes like you got it at a redneck bar."

"An empty belly is the best cure for hunger," Dogen said with a smile.

The meal stretched on for only a few more minutes with the clattering of silverware echoing down the table. It seemed that despite everything, hunger had ultimately gotten the best of everyone at the table. Yakko listened to everybody talking, occasionally chipping in in an offhand effort to keep things normal. Buster was going out of his way to try to get everyone in a cheerful mood, telling stories and reminiscing about old times like it was just another Saturday night for any of them. He didn't get much of a response however and ended up subsiding to his own thoughts, picking loosely at the leftover food on the plate. Yakko kept stealing glances over his shoulder at Wile. E, waiting impatiently for some kind of sign of recognition – it became clear after the third glance that he wasn't going to get anything at all.

"Maybe we should just throw in the towel and leave," Fifi said from slightly further down the table. "What are they going to do to stop me?"

"Kill you maybe?" said Norb. He said with a kind of deadpan wit through a mouth of ravioli.

"Better dead than put up with any more of this," Fifi said. "Besides, it's like what Babs said. I can't eat half of this stuff anyway. I've been on a diet for the last three months – trying to lose enough weight so I can impress the right people and land a gig somewhere far away from the diner. You know, try and get back in front of the cameras. Either that or I'll work at a department store somewhere and sell vacuums or something." She paused. "I just want to get out of working at the diner.

"Oh come on Fifi," Dot said gently. "The diner can't be that bad."

"I work at the same place where they have those stupid elementary school fundraisers every weekend," Fifi said coldy. "The same ones where they load the kids up with funnel cake and sugar and let them bounce around on those stupid inflatables. If you think the smell of a greasy stove is bad, toss in the smell of regurgitated cotton candy, dill pickles, and French fries. I'm always on shift when one of those little brats decides to throw up over the counter.

"God Fifi," Babs cried. "Can't you see that people here are eating?

"Sorry," Fifi said with a small smile. "I mean, that's not to say that I wouldn't want a kid of my own though. I just don't really have the time anymore and I've sort of given up searching for the right guy."

"I haven't given up," Dot said quietly.

She said it with a strangeness in her voice that only Yakko seemed to notice. He watched as his sister sat across from him and picked at her food absent mindedly with her fork, retreating to her own thoughts as everybody else chatted away around her. In an odd way, it almost made him feel guilty – it really showed how little he'd talked to Dot about what was going on in her life. For the past several years she'd simply been a shadow drifting in and out of the tower at odd hours of the night, only stopping by in the early morning for a quick bite to eat or an argument. The idea that his sister had secrets – secrets that she was unwilling to tell him – was something that he'd never considered.

The meal went only for only a few more minutes before conversation started to die out. Everyone slowly began to turn their attention to the head of the table, waiting for the answers they'd been promised like dogs chasing rabbits at a race. Everybody watched as Dogen dabbed off his mouth with a napkin and threw it loosely onto his plate with Wile. E simply surveying everything beside him like a devil on his shoulder. It was a long moment before he spoke:

"Now that we're all fed and watered," Dogen said finally. "I feel it's time to answer a few of your concerns.

"This should be good," Babs whispered to Yakko.

"Foremost, I want to apologize for frightening all of you," Dogen began. "Although I disagreed with all of these safety precautions, I was told that informing you in a more direct way might have frightened you – so much, in fact, that you may not have even wanted to come here at all. And that of course, would be a terrible shame. You're at the Valando Hotel, after all, a place that's seen more famous faces then anywhere else in the world. Right in this ballroom is where Marilyn Monroe gave one of her final performances before her fatal overdose, the Three Stooges met for the first time, and Manilla Gorilla had one last drink before he was gunned down outside in the parking lot. I love this hotel and I love the history of it. I've lived in it for the last twenty years and I have absolutely no intention of leaving anytime soon.

"At least nobody else will ever have to meet him," Yakko muttered rather loudly.

"Shut up," Dot whispered harshly. "I'm trying to listen."

"And with all of that out of the way," Dogen went on. "I feel that a brief history lesson is in order to start things off here. Can anybody tell me the history of the entertainment boom in California?

"The entertainment boom started in the early 30's," Babs said immeadidly. "It started shortly after film went into the mainstream as popular entertainment and toons were drawn for the first time. The fact that a lot of this happened around Burbank led to a lot of studios being set up all around California. After a few years they all just started to migrate upward into Hollywood and that was that."

"Someone has some brains on them," Dogen said with a smile. "But in all essentials, Babs is correct ladies and gentleman. Of course, there are a few relatively minor details that she skimmed over – some of the nastier elements of history that we overlook like a soft dent in a luxury sports car. Elements that involve, oddly enough, _your_ kind of people."

"You're digging your own grave with half of the stuff that you're spewing out," Yakko said loudly.

"Oh, I don't think I'll be the one in a grave anytime soon," Dogen said pleasantly. "Can anyone tell me what happened in 1937 in the middle of Burbank?

"Riot," Wakko said in a quiet voice.

"Speak up a little," Dogen replied. "I'm a little deaf in my right ear."

"There was a riot," Wakko began. He seemed slightly unnerved that everyone was staring at him now. "A bunch of toons from different studios banded together because they were being paid unfairly or something. Either that or the town government wasn't treating them right. Anyway, a few people got hurt—a few people might have even gotten killed, but I'm really not sure. It was a big mess though.

"You don't have to answer any of his questions," Yakko said gently. "That goes for all of you guy-

"He's correct," Dogen cut in. "The Rialto Street Massacre occurred on Christmas Eve in 1937 when Gertie the Dinosaur led a group of toons to city hall to form a peaceful protest. They were subsequently met by an entire police force that ended up turning physical when one of the toons made a charge at them. It wasn't just a few people that died however –it was twelve and only one of them was a human. With that in mind, the massacre solidified something very interesting –something that turned a quiet, unsettling rumor into a fact.

"Stupid," Babs spat.

"What was that Babs? Do you have something to contribute?

"I said you're being stupid," Babs said. "What you're saying is common knowledge to everyone. What kind of answers are you expecting?

Her words hung heavily with a powerful kind of resonance to them. For a moment it seemed like she'd actually made an impact or at least some semblance of one. There was a quiet string of murmurs up and down the long table like agitated bees. Yakko saw that Dot was staring forward with a menacing look on her face, almost scrutinizing every word that the man was saying. Babs looked angrier than ever while Buster still somehow maintained an oblivious grin on his face. The soldiers eyed them wearily from the sidelines but didn't say anything, holding their rifles and following whatever orders they'd been given. It was a voice from somewhere further down the table that broke the silence:

"Toons powers can't hurt humans," someone further down the table called out.

"Exactly," Dogen continued. "Toon powers can't hurt humans. Of course, a toon can knock over a bookshelf with a mallet and pin a human to the ground, but they can't simply walk up the human with the mallet and give them a concussion. It would be like whacking them with a pillow. But if that's a fact, how do you explain slapstick in Saturday morning cartoons?"

"It has to be intentional," Yakko said suddenly. "You have to want to hurt someone to really make it feel bad – you have to want to kill someone if you really want to go that far. Why are you asking us all of these questions if you know the answers? What exactly are you hiding from us?

He didn't realize that he'd stood up until he was looking the man in the eyes. He could feel the tension in the seem to stiffen as soldiers adjusted the straps of their rifles behind him, prepared to put an end to any kind of disturbance that might arise. Yakko felt the blood rush to his face as everyone stared up at him like some of deity, putting himself under the spotlight and either being incredibly brave of incredibly stupid. It was hard to say exactly what had made him stand up – it was almost like tall of the frustration he'd felt in the last few minutes had finally given away and brought out buried confidence with it. Feeling his siblings and the other staring at him, Yakko resisted the urge to look at him – he still wasn't entirely sure if he was regretting what he was doing or not.

"I was afraid we were getting to that," Dogen sighed. "On the other hand, I suppose we couldn't hide from it forever, could we? No, that wouldn't do at all. We'll get matters under way then, shall we?

He seemed to recline in his seat and take in a deep breathe. He eyed all of them – almost analyzed them one by one – before he finally started speaking again; when he did, it was with the somber tone of somebody standing up to give an eulogy at a funeral.

"Hollywood wasn't the first entertainment district in California," Dogen said. "There were others that popped up sporadically in the 1930's, some of them flourishing while others became ghettos until they were demolished without even a thought of turning them into national landmarks. One of them did earn that title however and that is the small community of Guardino Heights. It was originally a small group of apartments built around a studio, but when more families in show business began to move in, it began to evolve into a small city. Of course, that only went on for several years before it too fell apart when the studio moved up to tinseltown with all the others. In the past years, it's been a historical landmark – an abandoned ghost town populated sparingly by low lives, whores, and the scum of the earth who come waltzing in before the police come to chase them out. That is, until I bought the entire neighborhood for a hefty sum of money.

Babs looked alarmed. "What exactly are you talking abo-

"There's roughly thirty blocks, a housing development up in the hills, as well as a whole entertainment district so you'll have plenty of places to hide and run around. It's really a beautiful place when you stop and take a good look at it – lots of places are like that when you really stop to notice.

Dot glared. "Stop for one second and tell us what the hell you're talking about!

"I'm talking about the reason you're here," Dogen said with his eyes twinkling again. "I'm talking about the reason that we've brought every single last one of you here. In short, it's an experiment – something my coyote friend here and I have considered for years but never been truly motivated enough to go through with it. In even simpler terms, it's somewhat of a game."

The murmurs swept up and down the table again, this time peppered with genuine fear as well as confusion. Yakko, still standing and resisting ever growing urge to sit back down into his seat like everyone else, realized that everything had been building up to this moment – the very worst of things was about to come.

"There are no teams in this game are there are absolutely no rules – you'll all be playing against each other and anyone who attempts to make a stand and say otherwise will be getting a heavy dose of reality. Like most games, they'll be one person left standing in the end of this little adventure. In fact, consider this whole fiasco - this whole adventure - your own personal little wake up call. A chance to find out who you really are. Hunting has a way of doing that you know – especially when you do it often and you really get a chance to see eye to eye with the prey.

"The prey," Wakko repeated worriedly.

"Yes, you heard me right," Dogen said patiently. _"The prey."_

"There's no way I'm hunting anyone," Babs said uneasily.

"Babs," Dogen said. "Who said anything about any of you being the hunters?

* * *

_Yakko Warner had always hated silences. Part of it was the fact that they were the antithesis of everything he stood for but the other part – a small detail that he never really took the time to consider – was that silences genuinely made him feel uneasy. People talked because they thought they were supposed to, often prattling on at times and filling the air with garbage just to take up space. If people weren't talking, there was something wrong – something unnatural was happening. Nothing good ever came out of silences._

_The most distinct silence he remembered had happened during the autumn of 1990 – he knew it had been autumn because Buster had been wearing a windbreaker as he walked in front of him. There had been a storm the night before and a ragtag group of toon children from the student – Buster and Yakko among them – had been wandering the outskirts of the lot and making third grade small talk, walking past the rain filled gutters lined with fading sidewalk chalk. The afternoon had been chilly gray and the nocturne of autumn was setting in as the day slowly started to become the early evening. The whole ordeal had started when they'd found a telephone pole and dared eachother – half joking and half serious – to scale it all the way to the top. It wasn't exactly an intangible feat – if a toon fell to the pavement, they could simply pull some tricks to get away unscathed. _

_Yakko had been the second to try and climb the pole. Buster's flawless attempt had proceeded his and everybody had watched as the rabbit shimmied his way up the pole with a bright grin on his face, going as far to twirl himself down like a mast on a pirate ship once he reached the top. Yakko had pulled himself up slowly, taking his time and doing his best to not show off in front of everyone. He hadn't known he was going to fall – he'd had no way of knowing that the top portion of the pole was going to be so slippery. One minute he was nearing the top, gazing out over the studio like his own personal kingdom, and the next he was feeling the nasty roller coaster tingle of free fall as he plummeted down to the pavement below. It had all happened so fast that he hadn't even had any time to put up any tricks to defend himself. He'd hit the ground hard and miraculously stood up afterward with only a bloody nose and a bruised elbow.  
_

"_Oh man," Buster had said in his little kid voice when he saw him. "You're all bloody, Yak. You're going to have to the go to the hos-pit-able."  
_

_The silence finally arrived when one of the volunteers at their dinner had cornered all of them when they came back for dinner. It only took one glimpse at Yakko's face for her to start demanding answers. She eventually got what she wanted as she dabbed Yakko's face with rubbing alcohol in the infirmary and his friends watched. Yakko remembered everyone looking uneasily at each other, nervously waiting for someone to work up the guts to lie or tell the truth – none of them did. It was Yakko himself who finally confessed to what they'd been doing, reciting the tale of the telephone pole as the volunteer listened and tended to his bloody face. _

_He'd done it partially because he'd known nobody else was going to, but the other part came from the simple fact that silence between his friends – all of them gawking at each other and unsure of what to do next – had disturbed him to no end. The idea of people losing control frightened him; the idea a silence –- an awkward moment where everybody waited for someone to speak up for them – was almost a malevolent kind of Idea that Yakko simply couldn't let happen._

_Somebody had to stand up and say something – somebody always had to have a plan._

_The only issue was that most of the time when those silences happen, that person happened to be him._

_

* * *

_

"He's not kidding," Norb said in an awed voice. "He's really not kidding."

The silence in the ballroom was so tense that it couldn't have even been cut with a machete. If somebody had gone outright and screamed at that moment, it could have all simply been over there – everybody would have erupted into a blinding panic and taken off into different directions, stopped only by the ricocheting gunfire of the soldiers. Instead there was simply a moment where every toon on the table turned and gawked at Dogen, almost having the same double take that what they'd heard couldn't be true. The only actual sound was somebody knocking over their wine in shock, the glass clinking over onto the table before rolling over and shattering on the floor and spilling. It was almost like someone had effectively found a way to freeze time.

"It's murder," Fifi said firmly. "That's all it is. It's flat-out murder, plain and simple.

"It's worse than that," Yakko finished. "It's genocide."

"Genocide. Murder. Everyone at this table is going to have their own fancy term to describe what's going on here," Dogen said. He was talking unbelievably casually despite the subject matter. "I see it as a learning experience. I see it as a chance for both sides in this room to see eye to eye with everyone that's been going on lately.

"Learning experience, huh?" Norb's brother screamed. "Opportunity my ass! I'm getting out of this crazy house before-

The beaver – Yakko was relatively sure his name was Daggett now – rose up from his seat immeadidly but didn't manage to get very far. He was stopped in his tracks almost instantly by the soldiers that were flanking the wall behind him, all of whom drew their rifles in a line like a row of mechanical wind up toys. Managing to put two and two together, Daggett froze and didn't bother taking any more steps forward.

"I'd advise you to sit down," Dogen said curtly.

Yakko watched as Daggett slowly retreated back into his seat beside his brother looking reasonably shell shocked; he wasn't necessarily the only one either. Looking up and down the table was like staring at a triptych of identical faces. Buster's smiling persona had vanished in one clawing stroke. Babs's lips were pursed angrier than ever now. Dot was simply gaping out into space with a look of blatant disbelief like her world had just crashed in on her – sitting beside her, Wakko only looked frightened. The rest of the faces down the table were a similar story, all of them looking either very uneasy or very angry. Others simply looked manipulated, slowly putting into place exactly how they'd been brought to the dinner party in the first place.

"Your population has grown exponentially in the last few years," Dogen continued dryly. "So much to the point that within the next twenty years, you'll possibly surpass humans in the United States. I can sympathize with being a minority – it's a frightening idea that you've dealt with all your lives. Of course, when things like that change radically, it's clear that mistakes have been made. We're not the government. We're not any kind of authority at all. We're just people with an idea and the means to do it. Of course, I'm not within the jurisdiction to say that. After all, I'm not the one who's in charge he-

"So that's it then?" Yakko said angrily. He had no intention of sitting down now. "You just woke up one morning, poured a cup of coffee, and decided to kill a hundred people?

"I won't be killing anyone," Dogen said. "It's against my morals. I'll remain safely at this hotel to watch everything from very away. Mr. Coyote, on the other hand, will be very obliged to join you. He'll be overseeing everything to make sure nothing veers to far out of line."

"Mr. Coyote's a bit of a hypocrite then," Yakko shot back.

"I'm pleased to say," Dogen began. "That most of this was Mr. Coyote's vision as well as mine, and even though he hasn't been very vocal tonight, I'm sure he doesn't appreciate you speaking about him while he's right here. In fact, I'd go as far to say that this project wouldn't have happened at all if it wasn't for him. In fact, he's the one that coined the term learning experience to describe all of this. It's nice to surround yourself with people who have good ideas."

"You're not people with ideas," Dot cut in. "You're just bad people with money. There's enough of you in the world!"

Yakko was astounded to see that his younger sister was now making the bold move of standing up with him on the other side of the table. He imagined for a moment the complicated world inside Dot's head, a place where she probably was under the impression that what she was doing – standing up in front of a crowd of strangers to make a point – made her appear invigorated somehow; _powerful_. She instead looked like a stubborn teenager who was in way over her head. There was some halfhearted support that echoed down the table as she stood up, but at the same time, absolutely nobody joined her. Yakko couldn't believe how unwilling people were to get involved even when their lives were at stake.

"A bad person," Dogen repeated. There almost seemed to be a sense of amusement in his voice. "You're calling me a bad person, aren't you?

"A good person doesn't tempt people out of their homes by tricking them," Yakko said. He was trying to hide the fact that his whole body was shaking. "Good people don't go out and kidnap people. Call me crazy, but from what I've seen here, you people are a bit lacking in the moral department.

"And what about you, Yakko?" Dogen said with near infinite patience. "Would you consider yourself a good person?

It was a question that got under his skin but he didn't let it show. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

"I'm going to assume," Dogen began. "That all of you are related. You, what's your name?

It took a moment for Yakko to realize that the question was directed toward Wakko, who had just stood up to join his siblings with his head bowed down toward the floor and his face shadowed underneath his red cap. The parent in him wanted to yell at both of them to sit down, but the other side of him – the side that ultimately won and was admittedly even a bit selfish – almost wanted them to be there. It was sadly the first time that they'd all been on the same page in years.

"Wakko," his brother replied quietly. He seemed to be making an effort not to make eye contact.

"I like you," Dogen commented. "You're soft spoken. Just like a toon should be. Your brother and sister could take a page from your book . It's like your friend Babs here said earlier. What we're discussing here is really common knowledge when you think about it. Speaking your mind isn't how you make it in this world. It's what gets you shot down to the ground. If you've really lived this long acting the way you do Y, I'm surprised you haven't realized this yet. To be honest, I'm surprised you're still standing."

"You don't know anything about us," Yakko retorted. It was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

"I know enough," Dogen said simply. "This wasn't a random selection and that goes for all of you. Now please, sit down. You're taking up precious time here and we're already behind schedule."

"What if I don't?" Yakko called out. "What, are you going to tell your goons over there to shoot me?

"No," Dogen said. "No, of course not. I'm going to tell them to shoot your brother and sister."

The sound of all the soldiers cocking their rifles echoed throughout the ballroom like a vault of whiskey bottles being uncorked. Everything moved with a frantic feel of hyper reality as Yakko felt his blood run cold, his eyes shooing back and forth between his siblings like a duel in the old west as the soldiers aimed the rifles at them. Wakko retreated into his seat almost immeadidly, shooting terrified glances at his siblings that almost pleaded them to do the same. Everybody else in the ballroom was suddenly whispering and yelling, but Yakko heard none of that – it was almost like everything around him had melted away. His common sense had simply ceased to work. It was Dot on the other hand, standing across from the table and biting her lip, that was able to give him a good helping of reality before things got any worse.

"Just sit down," Dot hissed across the table. "Whatever you're trying to do isn't worth it."

It was actually Babs that dragged him back down into his seat. The next thing Yakko knew he was sitting back down and attempting to ignore the fact that everybody was staring at him. Dot had sat back down across from him and was staring at him questionably, almost like a mother eyeing a child who had just gone out and played in traffic – it made him feel defeated and embarrassed. It seemed for a moment that Wile. E was staring at him from the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, the coyote had simply returned to his somber state of staring out into space. Trying to elicit a response from him was like trying to pull a tree out of the ground by its roots. Yakko turned away from him defeated, doing his best not to accept any of the glances he was getting

"It's fine," Babs whispered in his ear. "You're sister's right, it's not worth it. I know you're angry but you're just going to get yourself killed. Try to keep yourself under control."

"That's easy for you to say," Yakko muttered back to her. He glanced around at the soldiers and saw that they'd reclined and pointed their rifles away. His mind was full of scenarios that could have happened if any more steps had been taken out of line.

"With everything cleared up," Dogen began after the commotion had settled down. "And with that unruly interruption of the way, we'll get down to the specifics. Does anybody have any questions?

"How are you going to explain what happened to us?" a toon further down the table asked sharply. "What, are you just going to say a plane magically vanished into thin air?"

"Your plane lost communication because of a faulty black box and accidentally flew off into the Gulf of Mexico without any sense of direction. It reportedly then suffered an explosive decompression when a small section of the top half of the aircraft skin ruptured. Pieces of the plane are currently starting to wash up on a private beach in a small Mexican fishing town called Ridulajara. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, every last one of you died on impact when the plane hit the water. They'll be a memorial service and obituaries in the paper tomorrow."

"I have a family," Fifi said softly. She was sitting in her chair and hugging herself. "I have a family back home…."

"That's terrific," Dogen said dryly. "Then they'll get to read all about you in the paper tomorrow. Anyone else?

"How do you explain the other people on the plane then?" someone called out. "The humans?

"Actors with fake identities who were thanked for their generous work and let off in a deserted field in Santa Fe," Dogen explained. "The rest of you were then flown back to southern California and kept sedated for three days before you woke up.

"Why are we wearing our old clothes?" Wakko asked.

"So you look recognizable," Dogen said. "I found that part a bit ludicrous to be honest, but then again, I'm not the one calling the shots here. Are there any other questions?

"What are you going to do with the winner?" Dot asked angrily. "Take them out behind a barn somewhere and shoot them too?

"They'll be given a compensation check and let free with careful instruction that they won't be telling anyone what happened here.

"What's stopping me from leaving then?" Fifi said finally. "What's stopping me from leaving so I won't have to go through with any of this?

"Well, I was just getting to that," Dogen said. "A final, crucial piece of information. You see, when you were under sedation, you were also given a special chemical solution designed just for this opportunity. It's harmless on it's own, but when put together with the right trigger, it becomes fatal – so fatal, in fact, that it becomes guaranteed to make you succumb to a slow and painful demise in four days. And if you're able to put two and two together, you'll be aware a spoonful of the necessary trigger was laced into the food that you ate tonight."

Nobody said anything for what seemed like a very long time. There was no attempt at violence, no sudden rush to the front of the table; just an unsavory moment where everyone sat like they'd just heard the end of a long ghost story around a campfire, taking in everything in with short bursts like the slides of an old film reel. Yakko instinctively glanced down at the table scraps in his plate, feeling his heart pound like a jackhammer as everything came crashing in on him at once. Somewhere further down the table, someone started to cry in a distant way that made the opposite ends of the ballroom seem like outer space. It was an unsettling moment in time where nobody even took the time to look at each other, taking the time to accept everything they'd just reached the end of a mutually long court case. Yakko stared around and got a good look at everyone: Buster sitting across from him with all of his confidence gone; Wakko gaping and almost looking like he'd just been lobotomized; Babs staring to realize that she was fighting a losing battle; Fifi's face buried behind her hands as she rubbed them down her face exasperatedly; Norb's expression still and unreadable with his brother sitting behind him; and even Wile. E just beside Yakko, almost looking bemused by everything that was happened – everything that had been meticulously planned beforehand. In the end, looking back and forth at all of them wasn't any different than being in a house of mirrors.

"Oh man," Buster said somberly. His eyes were wide and frightened and his hands were cupped at his mouth._ "Oh man."_

"I hope you people rot," Dot said quietly from across the table. "I hope you get everything that's coming to you."

"You don't necessarily have to play," Dogen commented. "The game itself doesn't start until tomorrow morning so you're all welcome – expected actually – to spend the night here at the hotel. It's the least we can do for your service here. And like I said, you do have somewhat of a choice here. You have three options: win, die, or give up early. With all of that clear however, I think that just about takes care of things. Does anyone have any final comments?

"Do we have any choice in this?" Yakko asked finally. "Is this our decision at all?"

The sudden and intimidating cocking of rifles that rang throughout the ballroom made it clear that it wasn't.

* * *

"Suite 203 in the penthouse," the soldier said. "You'll be rooming with one other person."

The meal had ended quickly with everyone being ushered away just as quickly as they'd been ushered in with rows of dirty plates left like a memorial behind them. The two rows of soldiers quickly divided them into two groups – both of them containing fifty that solidified a number of one-hundred toons – before they were whisked off back into the winding corridors like some kind of carnival funhouse. They passed by movie star portraits and billiard rooms; lounges and meeting halls; even assortments of rooms that didn't seem to have any purpose at all. Yakko's group diminished from fifty to roughly ten as toons were herded off by soldiers into different directions, some of them being shuffled into golden elevators while others were hurried into winding stairwells that led to different rooms. Some of them tried to fight back but they did it with a kind of hopeful arrogance, secretly pleading that other people would help them out and there would be some kind of uprising – there wasn't. The toons that got physical were quickly taken away from the group like nuts in a mental ward, kicking and screaming feverishly as they were dragged around corners and carried off into the unknown bowels of the hotel. The whole thing felt out-of-touch to Yakko like the split-second feeling of stepping into the light waiting outside the doors of a movie theatre.

Yakko miraculously ended up with his siblings somehow, even when their group had been divided to no more than the three of them and a single soldier. Although it was unclear exactly when they'd lost everyone else, the only ones they knew for sure were Buster and Babs, both of whom had been taken off into an elevator on the fourth floor with a handful of other toons. Yakko could recall the small image of Buster actually managing to flash him a smile as the doors closed, the ancient cogs and gears echoing as he was carried off to somewhere that Yakko would never go. The smile had stayed in his mind for seven more hallways before the three of them were led to a large door at the end of a hall on the penthouse floor – the place that they were standing right now. Yakko almost felt like a tourist coming back from a long day at the end of a vacation, even going as far to stare vacantly up at the stars outside the glass ceiling like a visitor gawking at skyscrapers in the city. Even with the extremity of how bad things were – even with the emotions that were swirling through his head like murky water - Wakko's comments still had a way of traveling back to him at some of the most inappropriate times: _You can't even see stars when you live in the city…._

"What do you want, a tip?" Yakko said coldly to the soldier that was still standing nearby. "Get out of here!"

The soldier only gave him a mechanical nod before starting to unlock the hinges on the door – he amusedly fumbled with unlocking it the first few times with his trembling hands, apparently frightened by Yakko yelling at him. He recovered quickly however and slid the golden rod out of place, unlocking the room with a metallic clink like two glasses clinking together. He backed away slowly when he was done with his handiwork but didn't leave, staring at them with a contrived look to show that he wasn't born yesterday and wasn't going to leave until they were safely inside the room.

"Thanks for sticking up for me in there, Dot," Yakko said quietly to his sister as they walked inside.

Dot didn't even glance at him. "Whatever."

The room opened up into a place that would have been a reasonably nice place to stay if the circumstances were different. It looked more like a picturesque shot to stick on the front of a brochure than it did an actual hotel room. Instead of the archetypal motel room with double beds and a television in dire need of replacement, the double doors opened up into a living room of a lavished suite with ocean blue curtains and pink coffee tables that reminded Yakko oddly of salt-water taffy. There was a single queen bed sitting in the center of the room with layers of white bed sheets that had been artfully folded despite the fact that nobody had used the hotel in years – the whole thing really raised the question of exactly how eccentric Amos Dogen really was to pay staff to clean uninhabited rooms. Doorways on either side of the room opened up separate bedrooms and bathrooms with a radiator thrumming on the opposite side of the room. A ceiling fan battered noisily on the ceiling and portraits of movie stars – likely copies of the same portraits that seemed to litter the hallways of the hotel like a cancer – adorned the wall.

"It's like how they offer you one last meal before you go in the electric chair," Wakko said suddenly. "They try to be nice to you before things get bad."

"A suite and a five-star dinner before they give us a gunshot to the head," Yakko said dryly. 'You really have to love the upper class."

Like nearly everything else he'd said that evening, he said it without really thinking – too many thoughts were running through his head to pay any attention to what he was saying. Unable to take the awkward silence of the three of them standing by the doorway, he hurried forward to the window on the opposite side of the room and opened the curtains like a Broadway production. He could hear Dot throwing herself onto the bed without a word behind but couldn't bring himself to look at her. Staring out over their balcony where a few lawn chairs had been set up in a haphazard fashion, it took a moment for him to realize that their room was situated above the ballroom – it was one of the tight little awnings on the wall that they'd seen earlier with ivy colored balconies. He could glance down all the way to the ground floor and see cooks and attendants walking around the empty dining table like ants, picking up after their dinner with their own little personal agendas. Other balconies faced theirs on the other side of the room although none of the other toons had opened their curtains yet – in a very strange way, it made Yakko feel sad. He suddenly felt in desperate need for one person in the world to be thinking the way he was.

"Well, at least they gave us a nice view," Wakko said as he walked up beside his brother. "Do you want to talk?"

"I'm probably start crying if I did," Yakko said simply.

He'd meant for it to be a remark to tell that he wanted to be alone but it somehow came out as blatantly honest confession. He paused for a moment and analyzed exactly what he'd just said, grimacing and turned away from his brother afterward, looking out the window and trying to hide his face. Wakko didn't even get a chance to say anything, however, before the sound of a flushing toilet in one of the suite's other rooms caught all three of them completely off guard. On the other side of the room, Yakko noticed that Dot – who had thrown herself onto the bed immeadidly upon coming and buried herself in her pillow – glance up with mild interest. There was the quiet sound of footsteps echoing from the doorway as their roommate walked through their suite with quick and prissy steps, almost like someone who wanted to make a point that they knew exactly what they were going. When a face appeared in the doorway to the other bedroom – a face that was another familiar one and showed just how planned out everything had been – all three of the Warners resisted the hysterical urge to laugh. It was such a coincidence that it almost made them consider for a second that everything was an elaborate dream.

"Well, well, well," a gray and white cat toon said as she stepped out into the room. "What a bittersweet reunion this is."

Wakko grimaced. "Hi Rita."

Their old costar, apparently not even the least bit surprised to see them, walked over looking like she was strutting on a catwalk and pulled herself up to lay down beside Dot on the bed. The Warner sister in question, apparently annoyed with the complete disrespect for her privacy, merely got up with a look of revulsion and retreated to walking over to stare out the window – Yakko noticed that she seemed to be making an effort not to make eye contact with him. Laying sprawled out on the bed and looking like she hadn't properly slept in years, Rita eyed all of them with a cynical smile as she spread herself out, lying on her back and turning to stare up at the ceiling fan with her eyes spinning like a Laundromat. With everything that had transpired in the last few hours, Yakko found it incredible that anybody could smile so naturally.

"Nice speech in there Warner," Rita said. "Really, the show you put on in there made this a night to remember. The only thing missing was an assassination attempt and it would go down in the history books."

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment," Yakko said sharply. "Why didn't you say anything to us back in the ballroom, Rita?"

There really wasn't anything in particular that had changed about Rita. On the other hand, that could have been the fact that Yakko had known exactly what to expect from her. In the recent years, Rita had become somewhat of a tabloid darling with half of the paparazzi magazines in California advertising her face in the aisle of every supermarket. Although her story was somewhat difficult to follow, especially considering how the media distorted it at every twist and turn, it was clear just by looking at her face now that she'd fallen afoul to celebrity fame and had her fun – maybe a little too much fun – experimenting with her lifestyle; a lifestyle that was ultimately too much for her to handle. Rita's eyes were hollow and her face was weathered and older looking than it should have been, almost like the epitome of somebody who had been in and out of rehab. She was still smiling at him though, and out of everything that was familiar about her to Yakko, this was what jumped out at him the most. Rita's smile had a menacing quality to it, almost like she knew exactly what you were thinking every time. It was the same malevolent smile that she'd given their shows producers before she'd had the infamous tantrum that had gotten her kicked off _Animaniacs._

"I didn't see much of a point," Rita said simply. She yawned and sprawled herself out across the bed before turning to glance over toward the window. "You know, it looks like the sun's going to be coming up soon. You'd think they'd give us a few hours to sleep, but they don't. They just toss us into some fancy hotel room with folded bed sheets and hand soap like a kiss goodnight. I wish I was anywhere else in the world right now – somewhere far away." She stared out the window wistfully like she was staring out at a dream. "I wish I was on a plane to France."

"So," Wakko said awkwardly. "Is, uh, Runt here?'

"Those bozos went and took him to another room," Rita said dryly. "I asked them to keep us together but they sort of just stared at me and went on their merry way. I told Runt to go and give them hell before they separated us." She perked up a little and eyed them conspicuously. "You didn't see him when you were walking up did you?"

"No," Wakko said. "I guess I probably would have said something."

"Well, don't worry about him then," Rita said briskly. "He's a big boy. He can take care of himself and I suggest you do the same-

Her words were cut off by what sounded like the world's largest crystal ball dropping to the floor. Everyone glanced over at once to see thousands of pieces of glass clatter to the carpet as the whole window fell apart in a flash of falling silver. They didn't realize exactly what had happened until they processed Dot Warner – unusually silent since they'd arrived in the hotel room - standing nearby and recovering from swinging a baseball bat that she'd pulled out from behind her back, surveying her handiwork with a mix of exhaustion and pride as her weapon swayed loosely at her side. She quickly swished some of the glass fragments out of the window with the end of the baseball bat, getting the satisfying crinkling sound like wrapping paper as the tiny pieces fell out onto the floor of the balcony.

Wakko stared. "Dot, what are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Dot cried as she flicked the window shrapnel off her bat. "I'm trying to get us out of here. Come on, reach behind your back and pull out a rope or something so I can shimmy my way down and-

"Dot, save the escape artist stuff for the circus," Yakko said exasperatedly. The window breaking had done little to stop him from staring outside "It's not worth it. They probably have every square inch of this place surrounded. You're not going to get a get out of jail free card if any of them find you wandering around in the hallways at three-o-clock in the morning. They'll just shoot you down and that will be that."

"Oh, you must be nuts if you think that's going to stop me!" Dot yelled as she waved her baseball bat in the air. "This place isn't exactly Alcatraz, Yakko! We can't even be that far from Burbank if we're still in California like they said. We could get out of this nightmare and expose all of this. We could get what's going on here on the front page of every newspaper in America. We could prevent everything that's going to happen, and if you're too much of a coward now to do it, then maybe I will. Maybe I'll be the one to do something instead of you just standing there and talking yourself to death! Maybe I'll get up and stop these people from _killing us!"_

"Are your organs up for grabs if something happens?" Yakko said angrily. "I could always use a new kidney!"

"There you go again!" Dot cried. "Just spitting out some stupid remark - some stupid joke! That's an easy way to deal with things, isn't it big brother? I'd say that's all you've been good at lately. You get up early, you come home late, and you wake up to do it the next day like a zombie. You look around and see how bad things are and you talk about them, but in the end, you're a coward. You want to know why? Because when it comes down to it, you're too of people taking what you're saying seriously. _You don't even like yourself anymore!"_

She finished her speech by letting out a wry scream and smashing an expensive looking lamp sitting on the pink coffee table beside the window. There was a burst of white electric spark before it fell to the floor in a mess, porcelain and ash flying in different directions like a flowerpot filled with dirt toppling off a windowsill. The lampshade went twirling across the room in a flash of blue with its cord flailing in the air before it hit the wall just behind Rita's bed and fell limply to the floor. Yakko watched as the cat in question looked at it all with a bemused look on her face.

"That's a gift from Dot Warner to the Valanado Hotel!" Dot said angrily. She then raised her arms like she was issuing a proclamation: _"Goodnight everybody!"_

And with that she walked out of the room fuming with the baseball bat swaying at her side. She didn't even switch on the light in the other bedroom as she walked in, shutting the door behind her with a force that rattled it to the hinges.

"Well, as much as I want to stay for this unfolding family drama," Rita began after a moment. "I think I'm going to go to the bathroom, wash up a little, and try and drown myself in the shower. Trash this room up for all I care. I'm not the one paying for it. Bon voyage."

The two brothers watched as she sat up from the bed and walked out of the room humming something under her breathe. Yakko stood there even after she was gone, looking out the window but not really seeing anything at all, feeling his body fill with anger but not really knowing how to deal with it or even put it into words. He looked into the doorway where Dot had vanished like a sea navigator staring out through the porthole of a ship, unsure exactly about what was going on in his sister's head. It was a fact that he could deny all he wanted and although Dot would argue with him to no end – bringing it up at every opportunity she got just so she wouldn't have to blame herself – it couldn't be any clearer that most of what had happened in the last few days wasn't just something he could have stopped. It was entirely his fault. It was something that hit him especially hard, but for someone who had been on the verge of crying only a few moments ago, Yakko Warner suddenly found himself dry of tears – it was almost like his sister yelling had diffused everything he'd been thinking.

"She doesn't get it," Yakko said quietly. "If you could just give her one day in my shoes, she'd get it." He paused for a moment. "Hey Wakko, are you still there?

"Yeah, I'm listening," Wakko sighed. "Sorry, I'm just thinking again.

Yakko stared. "About what?

"Well, think of it like this," Wakko said. "I mean, maybe Dot's right. There's about a hundred of us and a hundred of them so it's a fair trade. We know how to get down to the ground floor. I don't see any harm in just trying to esc-

He got his answer aptly enough when the sound of a gunshot rattled through the hallway just outside. It was followed by a bloody howl that rang even longer, possibly even echoing through every nook and cranny of the hotel itself. It only went on for a moment before there was a second gunshot – this one more direct and somehow louder than the first one – that cut the screaming like somebody turning off the sound on a television set. The two Warner brothers stood together but didn't say anything as the gunshot echoed outside like the drizzling aftermath of a storm; there wasn't anything that needed to be said to begin with. It was a plaintive fact for everyone to see that somebody outside had just attempted to make a run for it.

"So," Wakko said after a moment. "What are we going to do now?

Yakko stared glumly at his brother's face, earnest and expectant for an answer that he obviously wasn't going to get. There was a sense of childlike helpfulness in his eyes that was hard to place, almost like the face of a young boy waiting for his parents to tell him that they weren't getting divorced after all. Wakko wasn't expecting any real answer to his question – he was just expecting the simple reassurance from his brother that absolutely everything was going to be alright. For a moment Yakko had the mental image of the three of them all safely in New York and sitting in the lobby of one of the upscale hotels near the center of town, sitting in the lobby as the sun set and reconciling about everything that had happened between them. That was how things should have been – as much as he hated to admit it, that had been his picturesque image of what he'd wanted to happen; a quick-fix to all of his problems in one flight across the country.

The events leading up to everything came flashing through Yakko's mind again like cars speeding down a highway in the night. Dot standing stubbornly in the airplane's jet way and pleading for the three of them to stay in Burbank. Norb the beaver sipping his ginger ale casually on the plane and somehow content with the world around him. And now Wakko staring at him like a last resort, desperate that part of his older brother was still alive in the person in front of him. Yakko needed to give him an answer – not just a lie to brush things out of the way until later, but a good one that would get his brother a glimpse of exactly how he was feeling.

As it turned out, the answer that he settled on didn't satisfy him at all:

"It's simple," Yakko said finally. "We wait until morning."


	6. Chapter 6

_Yakko Warner didn't sleep very well that night nonetheless did he sleep much at all. He stayed up into the odd hours of the night with his feet propped up on the suite's coffee table, leaning back in the room's single rocking chair by the newly shattered window and looking out at the ballroom's high atrium of balconies, gazing out at everything but not really seeing it._

_The suite itself felt like a tight little nook when you looked out that window; a slight little hole in the wall that made it seem like all four people sleeping there were sardines compacted tightly in a can. Yakko had sat up and watched with quiet fascination for the passing hours; watching as Wakko had flipped dubiously through channels before falling asleep with his head cushioned against his pillow, watching as Rita – for a strange reason he would never know– sat with a towel wrapped on her head and plucked makeup out of her eyes with a curler like a nightly ritual, and even as Dot turned off the lights in the other room and made the tiny crack of golden light under the doorway turn to darkness. That was the moment that stood out the most to him, because that was when he'd been left alone to sit in the rocking chair._

_All of them had seemed to have dosed off at different times during the night —the sole exception being Rita who was shuffling irritably on the mattress they'd pulled out from the couch – and the only sound was the gentle humming of the suite's radiator in the dark. The suite, which seemed like something to glance over like a prison cell given the circumstance, was ultimately impressive when it came down to it. Even with the old fashioned colonial feel and wallpaper in desperate need of repainting, it only took a glance to see that whoever had labored in decorating the room had done it with their heart. If the room was a prison, it was a prison with golden bars._

_Even with all of it however, even with the silk blankets and the five rooms, the golden drapes and the expensive looking lamps that cast evil light, Yakko found himself feeling like a first-class passenger on a train that was destined to crash – even with all the flashy gimmicks they could throw at them to distract them, they couldn't change the fate that their fact was arriving faster than a speeding locomotive. In the back of his mind, trying to push all the sensible thoughts away, he wondered if everyone who had luxury ended up feeling lonely at night._

_And so at a little past two in the morning, Yakko took in a deep sigh and shuffled a deck of playing cards back and forth between his hands as he sat in the chair. He'd pulled them out from behind his back a few hours before in an involuntary kind of gesture to take his mind off things. The cards shuffled back and forth between his hands with machine gun rapidity - a rapidity that seemed impossible to the naked eye and in all honesty was impossible – and if Dot had been awake, she would have been the first to denounce him as a hypocrite for using his powers. She wasn't, though – Dot, after all, had shut the door to the other bedroom and contained whatever thoughts she was having to herself, leaving her brothers in the main bedroom to bunk with an old costar who they'd never even really liked._

_Almost at the thought of her name, Rita shuffled uncomfortably in her bed and mumbled something incoherent under her breath. A second later it was so quiet again that she might as well not have said anything at all._

_Yakko sighed and randomly plucked out one of the cards from the deck in an offhand gesture. The three of clubs. He then miserably threw half the deck over his shoulder and watched as they scattered through the dark in a game of fifty-two pickup fit for a king. "More work for the cleaning lady," his mind gibbered at him. He considered it for a moment before he started to laugh, a quiet and pitiful laugh that couldn't even be heard over the battering of the air conditioner in the corner. Then his laughs stifled out into sobs as he cupped his hands to his face and started to cry, doing it in soft sniffles that wouldn't wake anyone else in the room up. It had been a long time since Yakko Warner had allowed himself to cry, and the tears came out with a refreshing feel to them, coming out with a pathetic sense that this was the closest he'd come to accomplishing anything for a long time. It wasn't long before his sobs stifled out, however, and he merely sat in the rocking chair with a cold, hard expression, looking out through the shattered window at the other balcony awnings that towered up near the ballroom's ceiling. Now that it was night, the interior of the ballroom had been lit up as halogen lights decorated the outside of the balconies on the opposite wall like Christmas lights. A little further into the night and they started to flicker off one by one until there was nothing but darkness._

_Yakko wasn't sure exactly when he fell asleep. There must have been some moment in time where he simply slumped over in the chair and blacked out, all of his worries alleviated in one stroke. Names and image flashed by in dreams that he wouldn't be able to recall the next morning. Wakko and Dot. Wile. E Coyote. Fifi La Fume. Norbert Foster Beaver. Buster and Babs. And then-_

_"Spending these nights all alone with no one to hold… "_

_

* * *

_

It wasn't the smell of a woodpecker's cigarette that awoke Yakko Warner this time but the oddly familiar sound of a girl singing. He was too groggy to make out the words at first but it only took a second of hearing one of the high notes to realize that the singer was gifted – not just gifted, but naturally talented in a way that very few people seemed to be with a smooth voice that seemed to hit every octave like church bells in a cathedral.

Stirring in the rocking chair as throwaway playing cards toppled off his lap, Yakko had the split second image of a day when'd been very young – so young, in fact, that Dot had only been a toddler watching an old VHS tape of some kind of Broadway spectacle, the centerpiece of the whole mess being a quartet of girls in silver dresses singing a show tunes. The toddler Dot waltzed around the room in Yakko's head, twirling around like a doll propped up in a funhouse and singing toddler gibberish into a hairbrush that, in her imagination, doubled as the world's most microphone. One of the other toons that had lived in the dormitory had told her to shut up but Yakko had thought the whole thing was kind of cute. The girl singing now was able to recollect the memory like a coffin being usurped from the earth, something that Yakko desperately wanted to push away. With the memory came a headache behind his left eye that started to pulse rapidly and bring everything into focus; cementing everything that had happened before he'd woken up like a timeline. _You fell asleep in the chair. Someone's singing. Everything that happened last night was real…_

"Looks like you're up," Rita's voice – the one that had been singing - said suddenly. "Better get a move on. The early bird's the one that gets the worm, you know." Her voice clouded over darkly "Of course, it's not like I can really go out and say whether we're the birds here though."

She was sitting on the edge of the pull-out bed behind him and gazing out through the shattered window, her hands leaning back casually as her tail swished almost flirtatiously in the air. Her gray fur was battered by a bad night's sleep and she somehow looked even more tired than usual, but even through it all, it seemed to Yakko like the passing years hadn't affected his old costar at all – she still looked like a carbon copy of herself at sixteen. If he hadn't been so overwhelmed upon waking up, Yakko probably would have wondered if he looked any different now.

"I forgot how well you can sing, Rita," Yakko said.

"Could sing, kiddo," Rita said darkly. She rose up and started to walk back and forth across the room as she spoke, putting a strut in every step like a model on the catwalk. "Past tense. I don't do it much anymore. No point in belting out a tune these days when the paparazzi either wants to follow you into the bathroom to take a piss or milk your voice until you're singing through a breathing machine. If there's one life lesson I can give you, it's that show business takes your soul and stomps it to the curb." She paused for a moment as she reached the glass window, staring at it wistfully with eyes that didn't seem to say anything at all. "The only thing you really lose in Hollywood is your heart."

"Nice to know you're still so perky in the morning," Yakko muttered as he rubbed his eyes. He paused for a moment after that, suddenly settling on something she'd said that he didn't like. "You know, the kiddo you're talking to has had a license for the past four years. The kiddo you're talking to voted in the last election. The kiddo here is only five years younger than you."

"He talks in his sleep too," Rita replied as her eyes perked up with the faintest trace of annoyance. "God, I thought you people were hard to shut up you were awake, but in between your brother snoring over there and you writing the next great American novel in your sleep, it's like being on the seventh layer of hell for a night. I don't know how your sister deals with the two of you at home, but I for one was thinking of throwing myself out that window. Maybe call it quits early."

"You know, with the way you've brightened my day up I'd say you might have a knack to start doing children's birthday parties."

"Cute," Rita said simply as she continued to pace around the room. "I guess everything's still a laugh for you, huh? Oh, and just for the record Yakko Warner, I hate kids. Seriously, youth's too precious to waste on little brats. Give it to people who actually need it."

Yakko nodded to show he was listening but couldn't help but feel her voice trail off. He glanced around the hotel room wearily, taking in everything slowly as he rubbed his eyes. It wasn't like the aftermath of the drugging where everything came back in quiet vignettes, slipping in like wind through a keyhole and not making sense until the very end. It all came flowing back at once, almost like Yakko's mind had abruptly pulled a lid out from over a coffin. He thought of the events of last night almost wishing he hadn't woken up at all – almost wishing, more than anything else, that he hadn't answered a certain telephone call a week before.

"You want something to drink?" Rita asked suddenly.

He glanced back to see that she'd suddenly pulled a silver platter out of hammerspace, complete with a jug of orange juice, a small tower of paper cups, and what looked like two cups of coffee with milk already stirred into it. Looking at the platter that the cat was offering out to him, Yakko couldn't help but think of what had happened when he'd been offered something the night prior. His mind drifted to the poison that was now running through his bloodstream like his own personal death clock. It was a subconscious fear when he looked at the breakfast drinks and – while he was completely able to dismiss the idea of Rita poisoning him – it was oddly enough still there. He wondered uneasily if he was starting to get paranoid but, in the end, decided it was best not to let his feelings show.

Yakko smirked wearily. "Cyanide or arsenic?"

"Clever," Rita sighed as she placed the platter on the coffee table before turning her back to him again. "Really, what they did last night was clever. But that's not my style. I may be a lot of things but I'm not the kind of person to try and spike someone who's already poisoned. It would be like trying to put fire out with gasoline. It's really a poor judge of character on your part. I don't work like that."

"Well, how do you work then?"

"Fashionably," Rita said simply. It seemed like she was going to elaborate more for a second, but she didn't. "It's five-o-clock in the morning by the way. Just in case you're wondering."

"Weird," Yakko said. "I thought I would have slept later."

Rita smiled. "Early to rise, early to bed…"

"Makes a man healthy but socially dead," Yakko finished for her.

The two of them sat there in a habitual, awkward silence as they had their makeshift breakfast, Rita taking one of the coffees while Yakko – his lactose intolerance abruptly in mind for some reason – poured himself a paper cup of the orange juice that she'd laid out. It was too pulpy and the fact that it was warm made him want to throw up, but in all honesty, producing decently prepared food out of a hammerspace was an acquired skill that not many toons seemed to grasp. Yakko himself relied almost entirely on home cooked food for the fact that everything he brought out from behind his back tasted like cardboard. The closest to edible he'd ever seen was Wakko's hammerspace cooking, which from time to time was known to actually come out decently prepared. At the thought of his brother, Yakko glanced over uneasily to the bed opposite from Rita's where his brother was still sleeping. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth forming a large drool stain on the bed sheet and there was a look of blissful unconcern on his face that almost made Yakko wish for him not to have to wake up. In the back of his mind, in a whisper that he tried to push away, he ended up thinking about what his brother had said the night before – the question that he still had absolutely no answer to: _What are going to do now?_

"I figured we could just grab coffee to wake us up," Rita said after a moment of silence. "Sleeping's just a poor substitute for caffeine anyway." Her face suddenly took on that dark shift again. "I'm not supposed to be drinking it though. Along with being a substitute, caffeine's supposedly a _stimulant_ nowadays and the helpful hands over at rehab don't want me to go anywhere near it. I really hate them. They can beat around the bush and smile at me from behind their desks, but there's no hiding the truth: they don't want me to get anymore messed up than I already am."

"I keep seeing your face on magazines when I go shopping," Yakko noted as he took a forced sip of his orange juice. "I heard you chased a cameraman down the street with a golf club a few months ago."

"Hey, it's not like that one was my fault," Rita said coldly. She seemed to have the odd habit of waltzing around the room as she spoke, knocking in attitude to every word she could get her hands on. "It's those kind of people that screw things up. The entertainment business is run by perverts like yourself and big-business Hollywood asshounds who want to make a quick buck off gullible idiots. Seriously, you don't get up and idolize a hummingbird when it sings – why would you do it to a cat?

"What, you're asking the pervert for an answer?"

"Who cares?" Rita cried. "I'll say it in the record books for all I care. I'm an idiot, you're a pervert, and every other living being in this hotel is an asshole! Whoop-de-doo. It's not like anyone's writing any of this down." She paused for a second. "God, this is so weird."

"What?'

"Just the two of us talking. Pretending nothing's wrong."

"Oh."

It was like all the pleasantness in their conversation had been cut with a machete. It was horribly clear to both of them that there was no denying the horrible truth of what was going to happen in only several hours. Yakko's inner thoughts were broken by the sound of rushing water in the other bedroom, indicating that not only had Dot not gotten up but she was taking one of her refreshing hour-long showers. Part of him was astounded that she could still go about her early morning routine like nothing was wrong, but the other part – the part that found itself looking over at the glass window she'd shattered the night before – almost ended up feeling bad for her. It had really just occurred to him now that his little sister – his baby sister no matter what testimonial she could spit out of her mouth – had spent the entire night confined to her own little room with nobody to talk to. He didn't know whether to blame her or himself.

"So Warner," Rita said finally. "What do you make of all of this?

"I feel like I'm drowning," Yakko said after a moment. He hated how melodramatic it sounded, but he couldn't put it any other way. "I feel like I'm in way over my head. I sort of feel like everyone else around here is too."

"Hey, I'll toss myself a life preserver then," Rita said brightly. She eyed the vial of pills sitting on the bedside table as she strutted around the room, picking them up to scrutinize them like some kind of foreign invention. "What the hell are these? Tic-tacs?

"Those are Wakko's. It's just Ritalin and this thing they have just for toons called Mitofocalin."

"I don't speak technobabble," Rita replied.

"Panic pills," Yakko said. He was starting to recall exactly why he'd never liked Rita growing up. "He has a prescription for them."

"Ah, gotcha," Rita said. She placed them wordlessly back on the nightstand and continued to pace around the room. "Your sister's pissed at you by the way."

"And in other news the sky's also blue," Yakko cooed.

"Cute," Rita said with an eye roll. "And as much as I appreciate the unbridling sarcasm this early in the morning, I'd cut the phony crap you're giving me and just sit down and talk to her. It was really like a lose-lose situation for me. I could have either bunked in here and listened to you rambling in your sleep or I could have taken my pillow into the next room and listened to your sister complain until two-o-clock in the morning. I don't think I'd survive two nights in your house." Her eyes lit up for a second like she'd suddenly remembered something. "Hey, are you guys still living in that tower they renovated for you?'

"They didn't renovate it for us," Yakko said. "We moved all the furniture in ourselves. It was sort of a joke to us for awhile. I mean, we lived in that tower on the show and we used to spend so much time filming around it that it was practically a second home to us. I think one day Dot said something about sleeping there instead of at the dormitory for a night. It started off as kind of a stupid thing at first but then we were having sleepovers up there on the weekend – campouts and that kind of stuff on the roof without anyone knowing. One idea led to another and the next thing we were bringing furniture there – and after a few paint jobs and a few negotiations - we were living up there."

"But are you still living there?" Rita asked inquired. "I mean, you haven't moved since?"

"Can't say we have," Yakko said quickly. He didn't feel the need to go into details, especially considering how he'd just completely avoided her question. He decided to adversely change the subject. "So what sort of stuff was I saying last night?"

"A lot. It was sort of hard to make out. After awhile it just kind of sounded like you sitting there in the rocking chair and mumbling to yourself. You sounded scared though"

"Can't imagine why," Yakko sighed.

He watched as she took another sip from her coffee before throwing herself back down onto the pullout bed, her eyes gazing up longingly at the ceiling fan spinning on the ceiling. For an odd moment she waved her gray finger around and traced the fan, circling it around like an orchestra conductor, before she merely sighed and reclined on the bed. In the very back of his mind, Yakko remembered watching her sing at afternoon rehearsals for their show, listening to her to belt out songs in a way that very few people had seemed capable of doing. Because of their age difference, the two of them had always glanced over each other without a second thought, Yakko dismissing Rita as a drama queen while she dismissed him as a loudmouthed little wiseass who was bound to get what was coming to him.

When he'd listened to her sing though, oddly enough, Yakko had felt like he'd been watching a different person performing under those stage lights, almost like there was a thin line between the Rita that he knew and the Rita who's face had been bastardized across every tabloid magazine in California. He thought of all the stage personas that he'd looked up to in the past – all the capable, smart mouthed comedians that had seemed so cool and collected on stage – and wondered if anybody had ever seen them for who they really were; if anyone had ever seen them in a situation where they'd been scared. It was at the moment, however, that Rita seemed to read his thoughts and dismiss this idea entirely.

"You know, I can't say I'm that scared if you want to know the truth," Rita said abruptly. "I've gotten my share of bad things happening to me but I've still made it through with my heart ticking. I don't see how this is going to be any different. What do you think of that?"

"You really want to know the truth?" Yakko asked.

"Hit me hard."

"I think you're full of it," Yakko said blatantly. He spoke the unflinching truth and wasn't afraid. It wasn't hard to see right through the cat no matter what act she put up.

"Well, then the feeling's mutual isn't it?" Rita said with a smirk. She downed one last sip of coffee before walking to the window and staring out longingly, almost like an immigrant looking out across the sea. "Now that I've savored my last coffee, I think it's time to get ready for the festivities. I'd get out of bed if I were you. It's only going to be a matter of time before someone comes knocking on our door to relocate us to some other hellhole. It was nice catching up with you, Yakko. Can't say it matters much now though."

He watched as Rita strutted off toward one of the suite's bathrooms by the front door. When she reached the doorway she turned around to him and raised her finger, miming a pistol going off before turning away with a leering smile on her face. Yakko stared at the doorway even after she was gone, taking in everything they'd said to one another like the play-by-play aftermath of a football game. It left him unprepared for a new voice that cut through the air only moments later:

"I never really liked her if you want to know the truth."

Yakko turned and saw with mild surprise that Wakko was now sitting upright in his bed, stirring gently as he rubbed his eye with his glove hands and his legs still hidden underneath his blankets. His little brother looked at him cautiously afterward – "waiting for an answer," Yakko thought uncomfortably – but ultimately looked more exhausted than anything else. All together, the most any of them could have possibly gotten was four hours of sleep.

"You're up," Yakko said with surprise.

"I've been up for a while," Wakko yawned wearily. "I keep trying to fall back to sleep but it's not working." He noticed the tray of coffee on the table. "What, did you guys order room service?"

"Rita pulled it out of hammerspace," Yakko replied. "I guess she remembered I was lactose intolerant since she got orange juice too. Kind of weird she'd remember that though. I don't even know her birthday."

"It's not like we were ever that close to her anyway," Wakko said as he stretched his arms. "I was listening to you guys talk for awhile. How can she act like she doesn't care about any of this?

"Hey, if she's so optimistic about this whole mess she can be the first one out the door," Yakko said simply. "And if she wants to go and pretend she's not scared, it's her problem. It's not helping her and it's not helping anyone else. It's all just a big act."

"Right," Wakko said awkwardly. "_An act_."

His words stung and seemed to hang stubbornly in the air for a moment. Yakko uneasily glanced back toward the doorway to Dot's bedroom, listening to the quiet rumble of hot water coming from the bathroom behind the door. It was nothing more than a diversion when it came down to it, especially since – for the first time in a long time – he was actually uneasy about looking his brother straight in the eye. He felt like he'd been propped up do a comedy act with no material on stage, forced to gawk like an idiot at an audience that was whispering things in the back. When he glanced back at Wakko however, his mouth ended up speaking before his thoughts. Yakko couldn't deal with another silence, especially with his kid brother.

"You're waiting for me to say something, aren't you?" Yakko said finally.

"No," Wakko said. There was a sense of bewilderment in his voice. "Not at all actually. I mean, now that I've slept on it I really don't think anyone's in the position to say anything right now. We're all sort of on the same level if you think about it: something bad happened and like it or not we're going to have to deal with it. I guess that makes sense, right?"

Yakko wasn't sure how to respond but decided to smile. "That's one way to look at it."

The door to the other bedroom opened suddenly and caught their attention. Dot Warner emerged a second later with her fur wet from the shower, a towel wrapped around her head like she'd just gotten back from the salon. She walked into the room solemnly and silently, sitting down in the chair across from Yakko and turning it away from him to face the shattered window. The lack of even saying, "good morning," made it clear that sleeping had done little to alleviate her feelings toward him. Yakko found himself thinking back to Rita's remark earlier ("_You're sister's pissed at you by the way_") and ended up filling a quiet twinge of annoyance. Just what kind of apology was she expecting?

Yakko did his best to be friendly. "Hey Dot."

"Hello," Dot said without looking at him. She might as well have been speaking to fly that she was about to swat.

"So how many of those soldier guys do you think they have here?" Wakko asked suddenly. It couldn't have been a more obvious effort to start a conversation.

"Probably about a hundred give or take," Yakko said. He was still staring at Dot. "They probably have a few more outside. Hopefully they'll actually talk to us today and not give us the silent treatment they gave us last night."

"Man, this is all so crazy," Wakko sighed.

Sitting upright on the side of the bed now, he reached behind his back and pulled out an overly ripe yellow mango. He glanced at it skeptically for a second, almost studying it, before he dug in with a great bite that splashed drips of fruit juice across the bed sheets. In between the signature red hat they'd given to him and the fruit pulp on his lips, Yakko almost felt for a second like his brother had gotten ten years younger.

"You know, mangoes are actually pretty good," Wakko said pleasantly. "I usually stay away from the healthy stuff but they're actually not that bad. I guess the doctor knows best after all."

Neither of his siblings responded. Yakko noticed that Dot chose to ignore them entirely, gazing wistfully out through the shattered window that was her own personal handiwork. He looked back at the optimistic smile on his brother's face – a smile that was border line desperate when it came down to it – and didn't know whether to feel sad or not. It was a smile that really showed just how long he'd been in the middle of the two of them fighting.

"It's too bad half of the food that's supposed to be good for you tastes so nasty though," Wakko rambled on. "It's like they're trying to make it so nobody has any fun. It's like they try to tempt you too. It's like the background of a Flintstones cartoon when you drive – fast-food restaurants flashing by wherever you go. They even have McDonalds and Burger Kings at hospitals now – sort of counterproductive if you think about it. I guess if you have a heart attack they're on standby."

It wasn't hard for Yakko to see what his brother was trying to do. In a way, it almost made him feel guilty – how often had he seen his older brother crack a joke to cheer everyone up when they needed it? If life was giving Wakko lemons, it seemed like he was bent on making lemonade, whether his siblings' opinion the matter agreed or not. Instead, the false pleasantness in his voice only made the atmosphere in the room even tenser.

"Come to think of it," Wakko went on as he wiped juice off his lips. "Why does Sea World have a seafood restaurant? I mean, you could be halfway through a plate of fish and chips and realize that you're eating a dolphin that couldn't learn his tricks quick enough. It's really-

"Wakko," Dot said finally. "I think we'd all appreciate it if you shut up."

"Alright," Wakko said softly. He looked rather hurt but didn't seem to want to let it show "Yeah, no problem."

The three of them sat in utter silence for what seemed like ten minutes, the only sound being the pattering of water from Rita taking a shower. Yakko looked back and forth between his siblings, unsure of what to say or what to do. It was an unsettling moment; a moment where he could almost hear the ghost of his eleven-year old self chastising him in his head. _You always know what to say. Everyone always expects you to say something. Why don't you get up and say it?_

But that was the perpetual question. Somewhere down the line, almost on a subconscious moment, there must have been a defining moment where something had changed – where they'd just become three people living together instead of best friends living the childhood dream of growing up on a movie lot together. It could have been the moment when Dot had started dating lowlifes, the moment where Wakko had started sheltering himself to his long nights on the piano, and – in the worst case scenario at all – it could have been that unthinkable moment where both of his siblings had decided that he'd grown up.

It was never something they'd openly admitted – it was implied in the way that Dot scarcely glanced up at him from the couch when he came home with a bag of groceries or Wakko sometimes sat through dinner without speaking a word to him. They saw him as their older brother obviously, and they would ultimately go out of their way to say they loved him when it came down to it, but it couldn't have been clearer that imaginary lines had been drawn. It was a quiet idea, almost elementary, but it was still persistent in being there: _things had changed._

"Listen," Yakko said finally. "Before anything happens I want to tell you guys tha-"

There was suddenly a clicking sound of the hinges on the hotel door being unlocked. All three Warners turned at once to see the entrance of their suite open to the hallway, revealing a soldier standing with an expression that seemed carved out of wood. There was a quiet commotion behind him – the result of retrieving the other toons on the floor from their rooms – but he seemed completely oblivious to it. He eyed them all coldly from behind his mirrored sunglasses, waiting what seemed like an entire minute before he chose to speak.

"I'm your wake up call," the soldier said simply. "It's time to go."

* * *

Their exodus from the Valando Hotel started with all of the other toons on their floor being ushered out of their rooms, a process which took roughly twenty minutes in total. Then their exit culminated with a mismatched maze of stairwells and elevators as they were ushered down from level to level. The descent ended abruptly when they reached the handful of toons that had bunked in the rooms on the ground floor and – oddly enough – began to retreat back up the stairs exactly the way that they'd come. The most consistent rumor that Yakko and his siblings heard throughout the crowd – a crowd of one-hundred toons sidelined by twin rows of soldiers – was that they were heading to the roof of the hotel.

"I feel like I'm going to throw up," Fifi LeFume muttered as she walked up beside them on the tenth floor.

"Join the club," Dot said stiffly.

Every so often a disturbance would erupt in the crowd with a toon throwing a punch at a soldier or trying to instigate some kind of riot. The cries for anarchy fell on deaf ears however and Yakko found himself disturbed at their lack of enthusiasm for standing up for themselves – this eventually led him into realizing he was a massive hypocrite, which subsequently caused him to brush away the thought entirely. There were too many other things rushing through his mind.

The question of where they were going was ultimately answered on the penthouse floor when one of the soldiers pulled a long cord hanging down from the ceiling, causing the hatch of what appeared to be a trapdoor to the roof open with a contorted wooden staircase dropping down to the floor. They were ushered up with a cold sense of urgency and at once emerged on the rooftop, almost blinded by the immediacy of the light like miners emerging from a tunnel. Yakko and the others saw with awe that they were now twenty stories in the air, standing atop an enormous stretch of black roof tarmac that overlooked a redwood forest like a manmade canopy.

What really got their attention, however, was the fact that the roof was lined with what looked like twenty helicopters. All of them were black and sleek with coats that seemed to glow in the morning light, the window shields reflecting like mirrored goggles. Their propellers were motionless, almost intimidating, and all at once toons were shuffled into lines by the soldiers at gunpoint. Some of them cooperated aptly enough, treating whatever feelings they had with complete silence, while others showed glimpses of confidence that were quickly silenced when nobody else came to their aid.

"Whoa," Wakko at his brother's side. It seemed to do a good job of summing up everyone else's reaction.

The crowd by the hatch started to disperse slowly, breaking off into uneven lines stationed behind different helicopters. Brushed forward by the crowd around him like he was walking in a dream, Yakko couldn't help but think oddly that the whole thing looked like a scene from some kind of obscure late night action movie.

"I guess I was wrong," Buster Bunny said as he walked up beside him.

Yakko stared. "About what?"

"Everything," Buster sighed. He paused for a moment, almost as if he was in deep thought. "I know a joke, you know. I was looking at the helicopters and I remembered this joke – it's stupid but I guess it was funny because I was drunk. There's a skydiving class and the instructor asks if there's any questions. One guy asked, "If our chute doesn't open, and the reserve doesn't open, how long do we have until we hit the ground?" The instructor looks at him and in answers, "The rest of your life."

Yakko somehow managed to smile. "Don't get into comedy anytime soon, Buster."

"Yeah," Buster laughed nervously. "Guess I shouldn't, huh?"

The two of them walked side by side without saying anything. Yakko's siblings were seemingly respecting the quiet moment between the two friends and walked silently on the other side of him . Over the bunny's shoulder, Yakko noticed Babs trailing behind him with a broken, solemn look on her face, all of her vigor and anger from the night before gone. She didn't even glance up when he stared at her. Yakko looked quietly between his two childhood friends for a moment, thinking especially of just how much had changed. The days were long gone now of Buster and him being partners in crime, the Pancho and Cisco, the Abbott and Costello, the two halves of the same eleven-year-old brain. The days were over for the daredevil and the smart mouth, and, as Yakko walked toward the helicopter, he quietly realized just how much all of them were about to leave behind.

"I need you to tell me something, Yakko," Buster said after a moment. Just like his girlfriend, all the energy in his voice from dinner the night prior was gone – it was almost like a new person had taken the place of his friend. "You've always been the smart guy – you've always been the guy that knows what to say when things get bad. I need you to tell me something that's going to give me a reason to keep walking. I need you tell me that we're all going to be alright – that in two hours, I'm still going to be walking on two legs. I don't care if you lie to me. Just tell me something, man."

"Just keep looking forward," Yakko said quickly. He knew it was useless advice but it was ultimately what Buster had asked for. "We'll find each other once we're there and get out of this."

Buster gave him a quiet nod that seemed to double as a, "good luck," as well a, "thank you," before squeezing him softly on the shoulder and stepping toward one of the helicopter lines. Babs followed suit by simply stepping after him with a vacant expression, almost like a nightmare she'd had the night before had turned her world upside down. The presence of the two rabbits was quickly replaced, however, with the reintroduction of one their roommate.

"I hate flying," Rita said simply as she walked up beside him. "I'm always afraid I'll do a nosedive and crash or something. You know, I think I take back what I said earlier. I'd take your sister complaining to me all night than a plane ride any day now."

"I'd really have a helicopter kill me than have Dot over there do it," Yakko said quietly, with his sister out of earshot. "She'd take her time with it."

"Yeah, I guess," Rita said simply. She paused for a moment, almost unsure of what to say, before she looked back at him. "Good luck, Yakko. I think I'm going to go and try to find Runt."

"Alright. Good luck, Rita."

The cat flashed him an odd smile before walking away, almost like they had a personal secret that nobody else knew. Yakko half hoped to see someone else walk up – probably Norb or some other kindred spirit he'd met on their journey – but no one else did. He looked out at the sea of silent faces going into different helicopters with a feeling like he was watching the slow procession of a funeral march. Trying to distract himself, Yakko searched his mind for a moment to think of anything to describe how all of those lifeless face made him feel, and – after a careful moment of thinking – realized that they offended him. He wanted to explain why they did but he couldn't. It wouldn't make any sense.

It was then that he turned his attention back to his siblings, both of whom had been talking beside him as they walked without Yakko listening.

"I feel like I'm walking in a history book," Wakko commented after a moment. It took Yakko a second to realize that he was talking about all of the frightened faces in the chaos going on around them. His brother honestly had some very interesting insights sometimes.

"Oh, this is going down in history," Dot said abruptly from beside him. "This mess is going to be in every history book in the world. Mark my word. I'm going to complain so much about this it'll start show up in history books from the 70's."

"What are your names?" the soldier asked suddenly

All three of them were rather surprised to see that the crowd had pushed them into the front of the helicopter lines. A soldier carrying a clipboard was standing by the doorway of one of the copters and glancing up at them with unreadable eyes, almost bored from having to ask the same spiel over and her. For a second Yakko felt his mouth on the verge of spitting something out, but it was his brother - oddly enough - who spoke first.

"Yakko, Wakko, and Dot Warner," Wakko said without flinching. He spoke to the soldier staring at the ground.

"First one on number nine, second one on number twelve, third one on number nine. Next."

"Wait a second," Yakko said suddenly. "The three of us aren't together?

The soldier eyed him carefully. "I have two Warners on this helicopter and he's not one of them. I like to be accommodating as much as the next guy, but it's not in my position to screw around with things. As far as letting the three of you fly together goes, the answer's no." He gave Yakko a strange look. "Is there a problem here?

"No problem," Yakko said harshly. "No surrey, no problem at all. It's just in this mismatched trip of chaos, anarchy, and death, it would have helped a little to know the person you're sitting next to – it would have helped a little to bit to know you still have your family with you. You people can do a lot of things but separating us is where I draw the line. Rearrange your clipboard before the three of us rearrange your face. Or are you not in the position to do that either?"

"Yakko, stop it," Dot hissed.

But the soldier didn't respond aggressively. He eyed him with mild interest, almost impressed that at least one toon in the crowd had either the guts or the stupidity to say something. While Yakko couldn't help but feel proud of himself for a moment, there was also the twinge of fear in the back of his mouth had just spoken before his mind again. There was really no telling what else the soldiers could do to them.

"I'll give you your own choice, kid," the soldier said coldly. "You can cut the Groucho Marx routine and get on the helicopter, or you can stay here a little while longer so I can check three names off this clipboard and make my job a lot easier.

"I don't think I understand," Yakko said simply.

"I'll dumb it down for you then. The two of you are on number nine and your brother's on number twelve. Case closed. I'm not putting up with a mouth like yours this early in the morning. Get on the helicopter or call it a day."

"It's not a big deal," Wakko said quickly. "Really, I'll meet back up with you guys right away. It'll be the first thing I do once I'm there. You don't have to worry about me. I mean, the place really can't be that big if you really think about it

"Wakko, you've got to be kidding me. I'm not going to let this be the last time I ever see you.

"Then don't let it be," Wakko said sharply. "For the love of God Yakko, you're walking the plank with every word you're telling this guy. All you're doing is giving him what he wants – he wants to see you step out of line. If you decided to stand up and finally do something, you picked a really bad time for it. I can take care of my own back. Just watch yourself until the three of us can put our heads together again."

"I-

"Yakko, just trust me for once."

His brother was staring at him with a pleading face that Yakko had seen countless times before. It had never occurred to him until now that, in a very strange way, Wakko had never really grown up in his eyes. He'd always been his little brother; somebody he'd had to reassure and almost subconsciously make decisions for without even realizing it. As it turned out, there was a thin line between reassurance to his brother that things were going to get better and the honest truth that he couldn't hide.

Yakko never actually respond. He just gave a sheepish nod of understanding with Dot watching from beside the two of them, not saying anything – there somehow wasn't any need to say anything.

"I love you guys," Wakko said after a moment. "I really do."

"Right back at you, Wak."

"Take care of Dot. If it makes you feel any better, I'll try not to do anything stupid."

Yakko watched as his brother squeezed his gloved hand before turning away toward the ninth helicopter, his tail swishing worriedly behind him. Yakko stared out at the spot where his brother had been even after he was gone, feeling almost like he'd just signed a death certificate in red ink. In his head, he heard Dot's voice chastising him again:_ all your fault, all your fault, all your fault…_

"Another one bites the dust," the soldier said. He turned to Dot and Yakko. "Getting on board?

"Just taking my time," Yakko replied simply. He wasn't really aware of what the soldier was saying – he was too busy staring out over the heads of the crowd to catch a final glimpse of his brother. "I might not have a lot of it left, you know?"

The two of them quickly boarded the helicopter that smelled like the upholstery of a new car. There were already three other toons there. The first was Fifi LeFume who was sitting on the row of seats facing the cockpit, her legs crossed and apparently in deep thought – she didn't even glance up at the two Warners as they climbed inside. Beside the purple skunk was a toon squirrel sitting and looking like she was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Yakko watched as Dot wordlessly took a seat beside her, not even offering any glance up at her older brother. If they could communicate telepathically, Yakko had the uneasy feeling she would have been screaming at him.

The third passenger in the plane was Woody Woodpecker and he was the only one that actually took note of Yakko when he climbed inside the helicopter, going as far as to offer out the seat beside him in what looked like a blank, emotionless gesture. Yakko could smell cheap liquor on the bird as he sat down beside him and it wasn't hard to realize that he had spent the entirety of the night before drinking in his hotel room. He stared at Yakko for a very long time, eventually to the awkward point where Yakko felt no other choice but to turn to the old woodpecker and offer a phony smile.

"Hey," Yakko said awkwardly.

The woodpecker eyed him for a long time but didn't smile back. "Hello."

The helicopters took off fifteen minutes later.

* * *

_It was a twenty minute ride._

_The helicopters broke through the sky in the formation of an arrowhead, the propellers spinning and casting out dark shadows on the clouds below. There were twenty of them – five toons to a copter – and when they moved it was with the mechanical rigidness of rusted cogs and gears in a machine. Then the planes began to arc down like a kamikaze attack, lowering in a nosedive through the clouds with the California sun casting out harsh light on the front windshields._

_And then, twenty-thousand feet below and breaking into view at a prissy speed, was the town of Guardino Heights – a place that looked from far away like the surface of a crystal ball with its buildings twinkling out white light from the morning sunrays. On one side of the town was the ocean, a blue blanket that sloped out far past the horizon line and crashed white waves tumultuously into the town's boardwalk on the north shore. The boardwalk itself was a long plank of mismatched food stands and carnival rides, even boasting a rather large funhouse on the east side. The large building was decorated with peeling statues of clowns and gargoyles, both of which had deteriorated in the rain to the point where their paint had started to chip._

_Then, out past the boardwalk, there was the city itself with the ancient buildings sidelined by a black snake of a road that twisted and turned into blocks and alleyways; half of the town being used for apartment housing with the other half used as a flitzy entertainment district covered with neon lights and posters advertising long dead movie stars. A little further in and the cityscape broke off and sloped upward into a forest where the more expensive homes shone on the hillside with their glass walls and swimming pools offering quite bursts of light from the bird's eye view of the helicopters._

_And advertising all of it, almost like a sardonic and cynical welcoming, was the billboard of the girls in skirts with permanently smiling faces; the sign that sat at the entrance of the town and read:_

_"Guardino Heights, established 1932. Where stars are made."_

_

* * *

_

"We're currently cruising at an altitude of twelve thousand feet above Death Valley, California," the soldier sitting in the back with them was saying. "In a few minutes we'll be lowering down to about two-thousand feet above Guardino Heights. You have the right to know what's happening at every single stage of the drop off process so feel free to ask away."

The back of the helicopter was comprised of two opposite benches of seats that faced each other, bumping up and down throughout the flight with only flailing hand straps hanging from the ceiling offering any support. The interior smelled like new car and every second a burst of turbulence would send the whole thing rocking to one side, almost like a massive mechanical bull. Then it would swerve and righted itself, pressing onward to wherever it was going with the propellers from above roaring in their ears. Rita's prediction about them doing a nosedive seemed to be getting closer every second.

"Drop off process," Dot Warner repeated solemnly. She said it a second time afterward, almost like she hadn't heard it correctly. "_Drop off process_. So you're telling us we're supposed to jump?"

She was sitting in the seat directly across from her brother, although these were the first words that she'd spoken throughout the whole flight, nonetheless the whole morning. It didn't make her an oddity either. Most of the twenty minutes had been passed with an intimidating silence, overpowered by the roar of the propellers spinning and thrumming above them. Every so often Yakko would feel the powerful urge to say something, any remark to get everyone to stop staring out aimlessly into space like they were lambs being led to a slaughter, but he didn't - the only thing he could hear coherently underneath the sound of the helicopter was the jackhammer sound of his heart beating like the static of a microphone. The very injustice of it made him sick.

There were two soldiers on the helicopter with them. One couldn't have been any older than nineteen, a teenager with a volcanic complexion of acne who looked like he'd just finished high school. He kept barking out orders but ended up sounding more pathetic every time he opened his mouth, clearly no match for good charisma, nonetheless the job itself. He seemed nervous to be around them – seemingly afraid that they would riot any second - and he held his rifle close to his chest with his leather-gloved hands shaking from the turbulence. The other soldier was the pilot up front – a Latino man with a red bandanna and dark goggles. Every so often he would look back at them wearily before turning back to the task at hand, operating complicated looking controls in the motorized little terminal that burred out electronic hums. The whole atmosphere reminded Yakko of what he'd always imagined the inside of a racecar to feel like.

"Come on, answer me!" Dot cried shrilly. "You said you'd answer all of our questions, now answer _mine!"_

"Um, in any case," the teenage soldier went on nervously. "There are some last minute details to get out of the way – some specifics that we didn't get the chance to mention at dinner last night. The town of Guardino Heights stretches out for roughly thirty-one miles of land with one side facing the ocean – don't try swimming away, it's not going to end well. We have boats positioned up and down the coastline. Second, you won't be given any food or any kind of sustenance. I think we're both aware that you'll be able to fend for yourselves in that field."

"Yeah, because the last time you guys gave us something to eat worked out great," Yakko said bitterly.

He got a momentary rush of adrenaline when the soldier locked eyes with him, almost eager to start an argument, but then he just shivered and turned back to issue the speech he'd been assigned.

"Finally, there's the issue of escaping," the teenage soldier went on. The way he kept glancing from side to side made it seem like he was going to hyperventilate. "Don't try it. We have a, um, security system."

"What?" Fifi LeFume asked. "Did you guys dig a moat and fill it with crocodiles or something?

"It's just as much as a moat as it is an electric fence," the teenage soldier went on. "We're actually not supposed to talk about it up here – can't really go into detail if you want to know the truth. They don't want you guys to be prepared in any way for you're going to see. You can't have an advantage over anyone else. They said it would be unfair.

"Is it a fence to keep us in or to keep the cops out?" Yakko asked harshly.

"Alright, well, I guess I'm going to move on now," the soldier said quickly. "Like I said earlier, you're not going to be given anything to help you out. No weapons, no food, no anything. Everyone's going to be in the same boat going in and one of you is going to be on the boat coming out when this is all over.

"Is it still woman and children first on this boat?" Dot asked sarcastically. "No real issue. Just trying to make sure I have a fair shot here."

"Well, if you're worried about the gender variable, I'm supposed to tell you that you're just as capability of winning this as any boy is. We brought in fifty female toons and fifty males so you all have an even shot at getting out of this in one piece. Think of it like this: you all came from different ships, but you're in the same boat now."

"One more boat analogy and I swear, I'll personally be the one to paddle you over cliff," Fifi said simply.

The soldier didn't respond but turned around and indicated the pilot with his finger. They slowly began to drop altitude with the pressure in the helicopter almost tangible, popping their ears as they broke down through the clouds. Yakko glanced down the row of faces, taking solemn note of all of them. Dot was sitting with her legs crossed across from him, lost in her own thoughts like she'd been sent on a funeral march. Fifi was sitting beside her with the squirrel toon beside her, the former looking reasonably upset while the later didn't seem to be showing any emotion at all. The same went for Woody Woodpecker sitting just beside Yakko.

"Right," the soldier said awkwardly after a moment. "Well, we're, um, we're reaching the dropout point now so-

"Dropout," Dot repeated again. Her eyes were enlarged like she'd just stumbled on to some new horrible idea. "It's like I said earlier. You're planning to drop us out of here. You're expecting us to _jump_, aren't you?

"You could say that, yeah. We're telling you to jump."

"You people are sick," Fifi spat. "Just a bunch of pigs."

"I think we've established that already," the pilot in the front called back to them. "It's getting kind of old if you want to know the truth!"

"It's a long way down," Yakko noted skeptically.

"For a human," the soldier sitting with them said. "But I think both of us know that you'll be fine. We're going to going in a randomly assigned order – just luck of the draw. And while we're on the topic, you can be the one to go first."

He was talking specifically to Fifi LeFume. Everybody watched as she stiffened up in her seat, gazing at all of them conspicuously for a second as if she was wondering what they were staring at. Then she sighed and stood up crouching to avoid banging her head on the roof of the helicopter, walking over to the open doorway where the open blue of the morning whirred beneath her like a deep abyss. For a moment, Yakko noticed that Fifi seemed to stand there in the doorway like she was testing the wind, gazing out at the world and wondering whatever was going to happen next.

"Please," Fifi muttered under her breathe. Even in the days that followed, Yakko never figured out exactly whom she was speaking to.

And so with no further adieu, Fifi jumped out and vanished out into the open sky like the air had simply sucked her out. Any screaming was silenced by the whirring of the helicopter's blades and the grim silence afterward seemed to completely erase her presence. Yakko glanced over at Dot and saw her looking furtive, almost like she was quietly making it her goal to see Fifi again sometime soon. For a second Yakko considered consoling her – anything to make amends before things really began – but then he remembered that his sister wasn't speaking to him. Yakko's thoughts then drifted to Wakko, alone in a helicopter of strangers that he didn't know, and he started to feel sick.

The nervous looking squirrel went after Fifi – she at first pleaded at the soldiers not to make her jump, even going as far as to beg to be pushed out. She complied willingly enough however and vanished just as simply as the skunk before her. Watching everyone jump was very much to Yakko like uneasily watching a series of murders right in front of his eyes. He watched the soldiers and suddenly felt very vulnerable and defenseless.

"You're up next," the soldier said a moment later.

"No thanks," Woody Woodpecker said dryly.

It was a moment that every single person in the helicopter seemed to think they hadn't heard correctly. The only sound was the deafening whir of the helicopter blades above them, pummeling away as everybody stared awestruck at Woody. He gave them a conspicuous look, almost unsure of why they were staring at him, before he pulled out a lit cigarette from behind his back and began to smoke it. Yakko uneasily remembered the ones he'd been smoking the night before when they'd first met.

The teenage soldier's eyes seemed to enlarge in his head. _"What?"_

"I said I don't feel like it," Woody said as he puffed out smoke. There wasn't a hint of waver in his voice." "I mean, might have done it when I was a few years younger but I don't really feel up for it anymore. Besides, it's too early in the morning to think about stuff like this. I haven't even had breakfast yet. You can't expect me to do something like this on an empty stomach. I don't think I'm going to jump anytime soon." He paused and looked at the soldier earnestly. "You're alright with that, aren't you? A guy not jumping?"

"Are you smart mouthing me?" the soldier demanded.

"Define smart mouthing," Woody went on. "All I'm saying is that it's a long way down and I don't feel up for it. I don't want you to take this as an insult or anything. It's not the time or the place of that. If I wanted to insult you, I'd just sit here, smile and tell you the truth: I'd tell you how you're as dumb as a sack of hammers. I'd tell you that, while all of you people sprang up from apes, I don't think you sprung up far enough. But I'm not telling you any of that, am I? I'm just sitting here hospitably, smoking a cigarette, and telling you I'm not going to jump.

"Oh look, it's trying to think," Woody said to the soldier. Then he glanced thoughtfully out toward the clouds again. "You know, it' s really a nice day out. It looks like it's sunny down there." He turned and locked eyes with Yakko. "Be sure to tell me how it is when you get there, alright?"

"Listen, you're going to jump," the teenage soldier stammered. He seemed to be losing his composure more and more at every second. "I'm telling you to jump and you're going to do what I say."

"It really is a long way down," Woody repeated wearily as he craned his neck toward the doorway. "Kind of stupid to try something like that if you ask me."

"Just get out of the damn helicopter!" the teenage soldier roared.

"Just get out!" Dot shrieked.

It was the loudest that Yakko had seen her speak all morning and certainly the most desperate he'd seen her in awhile. He glanced over at her and was surprised to see that she'd finally made a conscious effort to make eye contact with him, pleading with eyes that seemed on the verge of tears – her, "Yakko, do something," eyes that emerged even at times where she otherwise despised him. While he felt a quiet twinge of annoyance, Yakko's eyes couldn't help but wander to the rifle that the teenage soldier was now threateningly holding out toward Woody – the rifle where his sweaty, nervous finger was trembling on the trigger.

"Look man," the soldier said finally. "I'm not here for the whole morality issue. I'm here because I need a paycheck, I have the experience, and I'm willing to do someone a favor. I didn't get up this morning wanting to hurt anyone, but if you don't do what we say, that's exactly what's going to happen."

"Neat speech," Woody said. "You almost made me think for a second that you were trying to scare me."

"Woody, think of it like this," Yakko began when he worked up the courage to finally say something worthwhile. He paused for a second after he spoke before he continued. "Can I call you Woody?"

"I guess so."

"Woody, then. Listen, what's happening here is bad – there's no _saying_ it's not bad and anyone who says it isn't bad is just lying to themselves. But this isn't the right way to deal with it. It's not going to lead you anywhere good. Seriously, it's like Dot said before. You don't have to do this alone. I can always jump with you. You don't have to do this."

"I appreciate the offer," Woody said. "Really, I do, but I'm sticking to my word."

"Get out of here!" the teenage soldier screamed again. Yakko noticed that his finger was trembling even more on the trigger now. He felt his entire body stiffen, unsure of what was going to happen but suddenly having a pretty good idea. This was heightened by the fact that Woody himself seemed conscious of the trembling finger on the trigger, eyeing it with the mildest of interest but no fear whatsoever.

"Oh, what now?" the bird asked threateningly. "You're going to play tough and pretend to shoot me?"

And that was when the woodpecker let out a long laugh – a distinct one that was either completely insane or in the frame of mind that nobody else had the courage to be in. It was the signature laugh that had made him famous in his cartoons, a high-pitched long one that couldn't have come from anyone else but a toon; it seemed rattle the teenage soldier to the core until his entire body was shaking, the carbines of the rifle rocking gently up and down a she trembled. It was also at that moment that Yakko realized something very important – a horrible fact that he should have realized the moment that the bird had refused to jump.

He'd known exactly what was going to happen.

"I'm warning you!" the soldier screamed a final time.

"Such a long way down," Woody mused a final time.

Yakko stared in horror at the trembling finger. "Wood-"

"Sayonara," the woodpecker said with a grin.

The gun went off with a deafening bang that rivaled any turbulence that the helicopter's cabin had ever endured. The aftermath of the crack rang through the air as Woody was blown back in his seat, his cigarette flying through the wind and toppling out into the sky as his entire body stiffened. Yakko's heart jumped as he watched the woodpecker's body slump over forward with his arms hanging limply in the aisle, gun smoke floating in the air around his chest like a shallow fog. The way he was slouched over almost made it look like he was cradling his stomach. With his half open eyelids and gaping expression, the facts couldn't be clearer that he was dead.

"Oh my god!" Dot wailed as her nails dug into the armrest of her seat. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates. "_Oh my god, get me out of here!_"

"_Oh man_," the teenage soldier muttered under his breath. "_Oh man_."

Yakko couldn't even hold back his scream as Woody's body simply hung there uselessly like a rag doll in his seat. He looked at it over and over again, almost like the factors weren't adding up. It was just something that, by all common sense in the world, shouldn't have happened.

"Um, next up," the soldier said quickly as his frantic eyes locked on Yakko. "You, you can go next! Get out of here, you're next!"

But Yakko couldn't move any part of his body. He felt glued to his seat, almost like the sound of the gunshot had paralyzed him. The soldier's voice sounded disconnected somehow, far off and almost insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It was a hard thing for Yakko to comprehend – the first person who'd been unwilling to go along with what anyone else was saying, the first person to really stand up for themselves, was now dead.

"I said you're the next up," the soldier cried again. There was suddenly a human element in his voice that hadn't been there before. "Come on man, get out! What the hell do you want me to do man, shoot two people?"

"Just get out of here," Dot whispered harshly across the aisle.

It was the one sentence from her that changed everything. Dot was looking gingerly at him from across the aisle, looking in a pleading look that was somehow different from the one that she'd made before. Now that the stakes had been raised, now that the first sight of blood had really got them to see the gist of things, something in Dot had changed – maybe not entirely, but certainly in the way that she and Yakko saw each other. There was a sense of desperation in her voice and for that one moment, Yakko realized that he wasn't talking to the girl that had drifted in and out of the tower like a shadow in the odd hours of the night for the past few years; the girl that had tried to make herself more of an inconvenience than anything else. For the first time in a very long time, Yakko was actually seeing his little sister who only wanted her brother to be alright.

"Come on, hurry up," the teenage soldier cried again.

Yakko got up slowly with his heart beating, doing his best not to look at Woody's bloody remains slumped out in the seat just beside him. Shortly before he reached the doorway to outside, Yakko locked eyes at the pilot through the cockpit door – the one that had been virtually silent throughout the entire ride. He was wearing a red bandanna over his goggles that flapped in the wind rushing through the cabin, almost his scraggly body look like a scarecrow. He was smiling however, and out of everything, that was what troubled Yakko most of all.

He felt the need to do something before he left, anything to show that this wasn't the last they were going to see of him, but he couldn't think of anything that he could actually do – like always for Yakko Warner, it was only he could work up the courage to say in a knee jerk reaction to try to force his confidence back.

"I hope you're happy," Yakko said simply.

"Ecstatic," the pilot said with a smirk.

And so leaving the world behind and walking into the next four days uncertain and fearful, Yakko Warner sucked in his breathe and jumped out of the helicopter and into the morning sky.

* * *

There was a moment where he jumped out and only nothingness, almost like he was being held up in the like a marionette puppet on strings with the world outstretched like a quilt thousands of feet beneath him. Then he started to fall with the black glistening of the helicopter suddenly hundreds of feet above him, passing off into oblivion as Yakko plummeted down through the air with his stomach rising up into his chest. Clouds passed as white smoke pummeled him in the face, his teeth grinding as he spun downward with his arms outstretched and his chin painfully arced upward.

It all happened so quickly that he didn't even have time to think – there was only the stark realization that the ground was suddenly only two hundred feet beneath him. Almost like first nature, Yakko closed his eyes and concentrated as the wind whipped at his face, quietly awed at the fact that the situation hadn't robbed him of the common sense to do what he was about to do – something that he hadn't even considered doing since he was eleven years old. _Come on, come on, come on…_

_SPLAT!_

In what must have been less than a minute after jumping out of the helicopter, Yakko Warner's body compressed like a pancake as he landed roughly on the hard city sidewalk. The taste of asphalt and concrete was vulgar and filled his mouth, in turn causing him to gag and let his flattened tongue flop out of his mouth like a dog on a hot day. He lay there for a moment on the sidewalk before he stretched his body back up to normal, regaining his dimension with his whole body feeling like silly putty. Smoothing out the last bit of his body – his left arm which was stubborn in puffing itself back up – he finally got a chance to take a good look at his surroundings.

Yakko was now standing in the middle of a gloomily lit street that seemed to be paying homage to a gangster movie. Rusty lamp posts lined the sidewalks with gloomy buildings sitting just behind them, broken windows casting light down on the sidewalk like funhouse mirrors. Here and there were fliers scattered around advertising different theatre productions that looked fifty years old with flapper girls dancing in chorus lines.

Suddenly feeling cold, Yakko shivered for a moment, silently cursing whoever had done the costume designing for _Animaniacs_ that his television persona had only worn khaki slacks and a belt. Looking down the city street, Yakko stared at all the lampposts casting beams of orange light down on the ground like flying saucers. The two long rows of them almost seemed like a morbid welcoming party. _You're in now and there's no getting out…_

Yakko sighed and started to walk down the street without really paying attention, letting his thoughts guide him down alleyways and boulevards that hadn't been touched by human foot in years. He thought about Dot, about Wakko, about the coyote, but more than anything else he thought about Woody Woodpecker and everything that had just happened. He thought of the way the corpse had convulsed after being shot, going into spasms as the life was drained from his body. Up until now, Yakko had always looked at death from afar the way a performer would look at an audience on stage – you knew they were there, but you had to stick to your act and pretend they weren't. Death had always been an uneasy topic for Yakko, so he'd viewed it through a glass wall, observing it but seeing it as nothing more than something he'd put off until he faced it. Life was easier that way.

He thought of all the possibilities, lining them up in his head like different routes on a map. There was always the off-shot possibility of all of them escaping. While admittedly more of a talker than a real revolutionary, Yakko would have gladly been the first to step up and start something if it meant getting his siblings back home. There were a handful of other faces they knew in the game – Fifi, Norb and his brother, Buster, and Babs among them – and it wouldn't hurt for all of them to get together and try to do something. But then of course there was the fact of the poison rushing through their veins – the poison that the Dogen man had explained would kill them in four days. Even if they were able to escape out into the sea in a boat, Yakko couldn't help but picture the horrible image of all of them sprawled out on a dingy boat deck in the Pacific Ocean, sputtering up blood as their life was drained from them. _And that's just…_

Yakko eventually passed a building with a long faded mural on the side, advertising what looked like a night at a comedy club with caricatures of laughing, drunken faces on the side. A vaudeville comedian was standing on stage in a top hat with a bright smile on his face, cracking a joke that the audience found obscenely funny. In bold print were the words, _"Come see crazy comedy cutups at the Congo Bar every Friday Night. Gears Malvin, Barry, 'Starfish Williams, and Groucho Marx. A night of laughs right here in Guardino Heights!"_

Staring at the caricature of the comedian in the top hat on stage – the one that everyone in the audience was incredibly eager to listen to – Yakko couldn't help but feel oddly wistful for a second. You make it look so easy…

It happened before he even had time to blink. The next thing Yakko knew he'd been sent tumbling to the ground with his legs buckling underneath him, stars flashing in front of his eyes from the blunt force of somebody hitting him in the back of the head. For a second – in between that delirious moment in time where the blow to the head blocked out his thoughts – his cartoon eyes even bulged out of his head like inflating balloons before he hit the ground hard. Feeling a fresh wave of agony, Yakko was suddenly aware that what felt like a volcanic eruption had started in the back of his head. Almost reflexively, his hand shaking like stage fright, Yakko brought his fingers to the fur on the back of his head – the fur that was now warm and wet. _Blood._

"Told myself I'd get one before the sun rose," a voice – a squeaky one above him that didn't seem fit for a human – said from above him. "Told myself I would and I did! How do you feel about that you stupid sonofabitch? _Go on, tell me how much you like it!"_

Yakko was able to realize just in time the bludgeon the attacker was holding was about to come down to him again. He rolled out of the way just in time, hearing the deafening thud of what appeared to be a golf club connecting with the ground just beside him. The early morning moonlight blinded him as he staggered quickly to his feet, having to duck almost instantly upon getting up when the flailing golf club swung again; this time it ricocheted around in a full swing like the blade of a fan. Yakko managed to steady himself on two feet and took a long and cautious step backwards, his heart beating like a jackhammer and the back of his head pounding even harder.

It was then, standing and facing his attacker in the middle of the street, that he finally got a good look at him; that he finally saw, incredibly enough, that his attacker wasn't one of the soldiers, nonetheless a human. The golf club wielder was – and Yakko could hardly even believe it when he saw it – a skunk toon with a backwards green baseball cap, wearing a ratty looking sweatshirt that hung off him like a dirty rag. His teeth were scourged yellow with nicotine and his mouth was arced up in a blinding half-smile like a wicked crescent moon. Yakko noticed that the skunk was holding the golf club over his shoulder now and trying to look professional with it, almost like he was trying out for a cover shoot in a sports magazine. His senses nullified by the blow to the head, he had the hysterical urge to touch the toon for a second just to see if he was real – he had the urge, in fact, to do that with the whole town itself.

"Listen," Yakko said with false patience. "The way I'm seeing it you're either color blind or stupid and I'm not leaning much toward the first one. Take a look at me. I'm not the enemy here – you and me are the same. I don't want any trouble and I'm going to guess you don't either. There doesn't even have to be an enemy here is you just put down the bat and-

"Like hell I'm putting this down!" the skunk shot back. "You think I'm just going to coop up in a hole somewhere for four days and wait this out? You think I'm just going to walk around like a chicken with its head cut off so they can pick us off one by one? If one person's getting out this mess, it's going to be me. If you're out of the running, we're one toon closer to getting out of here."

The logic was so twisted that it somehow made Yakko's head hurt even worse – not only that but it made him downright angry. His head scanned for quick jibe remarks like an encyclopedia – a cavalcade of wiseass remarks from accomplished wiseasses – but he knew almost immediately that it wouldn't do any good. If there was any moment to show the blatant truth for him – any defining moment that proved Dot's, "all talk, no action," banter correct—it would be him standing and gawking at the skunk with the golf club. It was a remark of such dubious stupidity that Yakko had absolutely nothing to say – there was no point in saying anything after all, especially when your opinion didn't matter. The very injustice of the skunk taking sides almost instantly upon arriving was horrible, almost incomprehensible, but he did his best not to let it show. He forced a smile that probably looked incredibly phony, doing his best to look a decent person. In the back of his mind, he found himself wondering how quickly he'd be able to pull something out of hammerspace if something bad happened. At the thought of it, he caught sight of the skunk's golf club, freshly stained with his blood, offering out glints of white light in the early morning sunlight.

"Look," Yakko said curtly. "You don't want to hurt me and I don't want to hurt you. What they're doing here is wrong – it's a genocide pure and simple and the moment you pulled out that club was the moment you decided to take part in it too. We can stand here and kick the living crap out of each other or we can talk this out. Maybe we can even think of something to do. How does that sound?"

"Sorry," the skunk said as he tightened his grip on the bat. "But I think you mistook me for someone who gives a damn."

And that was when the skunk charged at him with the golf club held out like some kind of medieval javelin. Yakko managed to dive out of the way just in time, feeling the rush of air as the club narrowly grazed the side of his waist. The skunk was suddenly taken aback and faltered, skidding down the grimy street and desperately waving the club in the air to keep his balance. For a hysterical moment, Yakko thought he resembled an ice skater doing an impossible figure eight.

"Nice moves," Yakko called. It wasn't him talking but the part of that emerged whenever he was scared – the part that, most of the time, did all the talking. "Have you ever considered suing your brains for non-support?"

"_Shut up!_" the skunk screamed. "_Just shut up!_"

The skunk rebounded and spun around, suddenly darting toward him again with the club preparing to swing at him. His mind screaming at him to do something, Yakko spun around as well as took off down the street with the lanes of old buildings swallowing him up like the dark throat of a monster. His hand fingered behind his back as he ran and tried to think of something useful – anything that could be aptly used as a weapon – but his mind jumbled to the point where nothing was clear. Yakko instead ended up pulling out a cuckoo clock from his hammerspace that suddenly blared off in his hand, the little animatronic rooster popping out on the long helix of a cord and cawing like an alarm. Even while he ran for his life, Yakko couldn't help but grimace. Great.

"Come on, turn around!" the skunk was screaming behind him. He already sounded exhausted. "Turn around so I can kill you!'

Yakko swore under his breath and discarded the cuckoo clock over his shoulder. He reached behind his back again desperately and felt his mind rotate like a pinhole camera for anything useful. He seemed to subconsciously settle on the image of Dot standing by the window with the baseball bat the night prior. Whether it was the thought of his sister to keep him going or the pure thought of the weapon, Yakko didn't know. What followed subsequently was him pulling out an aluminum baseball bat from behind his back – "second time's the charm," his mind gibbered – and swishing it in the air for good measure. Wanting to live more than he had for a long time, Yakko spun around in the street, brandishing the gleaming baseball bat to face the skunk. The toon, trailing only several feet behind him now, stopped dead in his tracks with an awestruck look in his eyes, almost shocked that Yakko had suddenly decided to fight back. With the way he'd simply been standing in the middle of the street, lost in his own thoughts, he might have been seen from afar as an easy target. In the end though, that couldn't have been further from the truth. Separated from his siblings and treated like a speck of dust that didn't even matter, Yakko Warner suddenly felt angry enough to tear the entire town down brick by brick. It was almost like his eleven-year old self was holding the bat, resurfacing gently with a newfound desire to live.

The skunk skidded forward in a blinding panic, cartoon dust erupting from his feet as he struggled to regain his balance. It wasn't hard to tell that the toon was incredibly clumsy. He gazed at Yakko with mild horror that he seemed to be struggling not to show.

"You want to fight, huh?" the skunk called out with his voice shaking. "You're going to do something after all, aren't you?"

"I think that's pretty close to the truth," Yakko called out threateningly. "Touch me again, I dare you."

The two of them stood there facing each other like two opponents on opposite sides of a boxing ring. Then the skunk charged at him again, shrieking a cry that sounded like a banshee. This time, however, Yakko was quicker. He swerved to the side and held out his hammerspace weapon at just the right angle, listening a second later to the rewarding ding of the toon's head colliding with the blunt end of the aluminum baseball bat. It was a harsh, vulgar sound and even in the desperate need to survive – even with his primal instincts coming out – Yakko couldn't help but feel the uneasy whisper in the back of his mind. You could have just killed someone….

He watched as the skunk stumbled backwards in a daze, stepping over his feet like he was drunk. The delirium seemed to have caused a momentary outburst in his powers as cartoon stars began to spin dizzily around his head. Despite the shock of all of it, Yakko couldn't help but feel competent.

"There!" he called aggressively. "And if that's not enough for you, you can just–"

The skunk regained his composure so quickly that Yakko had no time to react. The next thing he knew he'd been smashed roughly in the face and was sprawled out on the ground again, rose petals of blood splattering down to the roadside behind him. Yakko moaned and bowled over with his head thrumming like a bongo, getting a fresh wave of pain as his left ear started to ring audibly. The baseball bat went flying uselessly to the side and vanished into the darkness.

"Actually," the skunk's voice said from above him. "I don't think I've had enough yet after all."

Yakko barely had time to reflect, however, before an entirely new voice entered the fray:

"Hey, get off of him you stupid idiot!"

Yakko glanced up weakly to see a figure – another toon – rushing down the street. The toon was abruptly revealed to be an orange and black bobcat as he stepped under the light of a streetlamp, rushing forward with a sense of purpose as he cocked a pistol at his side. Before Yakko even had time to process exactly what was happening, the bobcat fired off three shots in quick succession that all narrowly missed the skunk but terrified him out of his wits. He yelped and seemed to jump twenty feet in one step, hurrying backwards and desperately holding his hands out like a shield.

"You don't have to shoot me man!" the skunk wailed as he started to run away. "I was just playing! _Come on, you don't have to shoot me!'_

Yakko watched in awe as the bobcat stepped out under one of the street lamps again. He looked several years older than him, at least in his early thirties, although with toons it was ultimately hard to tell. It took Yakko a moment to realize that it wasn't an illusion that the bobcat was wearing a blue police uniform that clashed horribly with his orange fur. He held out the pistol threateningly in a way that almost seemed rehearsed – trained hundreds of times perhaps – holding it out at the fleeing skunk with brimming anger in his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed furiously, and for a second he looked to Yakko like a promotional still for a strange, toon cop drama.

"Keep on running!" the bobcat screamed. "_Get out of here before I give you another one you stupid bozo! Come on, scram!_"

Yakko watched as the skunk hobbled away yelping like his feet were on fire, eventually vanishing into an alleyway between two buildings. With the torrent of blood leaking out of his nose, he was hardly aware of the bobcat hurrying over to him seconds later. While Yakko's paranoid subconscious almost screamed at him to run for a moment, he found himself oddly comforted at the sound of the bobcat putting his pistol into the holster of his belt. He sat down beside him and protruded a rag out of hammerspace, offering out in a charitable gesture. There was a sense of unadulterated concern in his eyes that Yakko had never seen from a complete stranger before.

"Hey buddy, are you alright?" the bobcat asked.

Yakko tried to respond but he couldn't. He was too shaken up by everything that had just happened. He shakily accepted the bobcat's rag however and started to wipe off his face, eerily reminded of how he'd done the same thing for Wakko only the night before – with his thoughts suddenly ranging back to what had happened to his brother, he became even less enthusiastic to answer the bobcat's question. When the toon didn't get a response from him, his eyes locked on the deck of cards at Yakko's feet that he'd accidentally pulled from hammerspace during the fight.

"Cards huh?" the bobcat said as he picked the deck up. "I used to know a few tricks back when I was a kid. You're not supposed to do toon stuff like that but a lot of it was just for a cheap laugh – just party tricks, you know? I used to be able to stack a deck of cards on my tongue. I never messed up once. People always told me I was great at it, but I just kept telling myself I was lucky. Course, I couldn't do those tricks forever. Once I got a little older I quit the kid's games and started playing poker – at leas then I'd really know if I was lucky or not."

The bobcat pulled the cards out of the carton and began to shuffle them so rapidly that all the faces of kings and queens blurred together. With the cards moving at the frenzied pace only a toon was capable of, the bobcat's gloved hand suddenly did a strange swerving motion that sent them all flying in a haphazard mess into the air. They began to stack themselves gingerly as they hit the ground, and within moment's time, a miniature card replica of the Eiffel Tower had formed on the street.

Yakko couldn't deny he was impressed. "Hey, that was pretty good!"

The bobcat smiled. "Looks like you can talk after all."

"Trust me, you haven't even seen the half of it yet."

"Guess I haven't," the bobcat replied and greeted him with a warm smile. Bonkers J. Bobcat, thirty-two, deputy at the Burbank Police Department.

"Yakko Warner, twenty-three, bloody mess slumped on the side of the street."

The two of them shook gloved hands.

"Witty," Bonkers said with a sly wink. "Anyway, luck's kinda stupid when you really think about it, isn't it? People put so much faith in their lucky numbers or their lucky underwear that they never stop for a second and wonder if they're just naturally talented at something. Course, it gets worse from there. Then you have nutcases walking around with four leaf clovers and rabbit foot key chains."

"Couldn't have been lucky for the rabbit," Yakko noted.

"Yeah, that's true. Speaking of luck, you must have an angel looking out for you. I wouldn't have even heard you if you if you didn't scream into that megaphone. That guy would have had your guts for garters." He paused for a second. "Do you know him?"

"No," Yakko sighed. "Just some nutcase that barged out of nowhere and knocked me down. You'd think people would be nice enough to wait until after lunch before the whole dehumanization thing sets in, but they really don't waste any time. They get right on it."

"Guess they do," Bonkers said. "Sheesh, it's kind of sad…"

Yakko stared. "What?"

"Well, it's like you said. I was kind of keeping faith that we wouldn't turn against each other this early. I couldn't believe the way those sad saps back at the hotel were just going along with everything. You should have gotten a good look at them too. If they weren't war vets who didn't want to retire, they were just jocks out of high school looking for a quick paycheck. What kind of a world are we living in?"

"A weird one," Yakko said after a moment. " I think the problem with the gene pool these days is that there isn't a life guard."

"Probably. Hey, are you alright? You look shaken up. And I don't just mean by this. You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"I saw someone die ten minutes ago," Yakko said uneasily.

"Oh."

A gust of wind suddenly blew down the street and made the two of them shiver. They were distantly aware of the sound of helicopters overhead, moving with the far off sound of approaching invaders in a warm film. Yakko thought vaguely of the drop off and wondered fearfully where Dot had ended up – part of him, the pessimistic side, was wondering whether she'd had the courage to jump or not.

"It's cold," Bonkers noted after a moment.

"At least you have a shirt," Yakko said briskly. "We'll probably warm up if we start walking a little."

Bonkers looked interested. "You got a destination in mind buddy?"

"Not really," Yakko said. "If there's a fork in the road though, I guess I'm going to take it. I've been mixed up for awhile. I might as well use the free time here to get my head in order. Besides, I have to figure out what I'm going to do first – get my priorities in order, I guess."

"You have someone you're looking for?"

"Two people I'm looking for."

"Well, call me a tagalong then," Bonkers said brightly. "Or call you a tagalong for all I care. I guess it really doesn't matter who's following who – or is that _whom_? Eh, who cares. I know somewhere to make a pit stop along the way though. Just in case you're wondering, you're not the first person I met out he-"

A deafening noise suddenly blared down the street like the deep horn whistle of a ship. It seemed to blare through every nook and cranny of the town itself, almost like there were multiple intercoms stationed at different parts. It went on for several seconds before ending as quickly as it had come.

"What was that?" Bonkers asked.

"I guess the game started," Yakko said quietly. "It's like when they shoot off a pistol to start a race."

"Should have figured," Bonkers sighed. "Let's get going. We'll talk while we walk."

"Lead the way Magellan," Yakko said curtly.

And so standing up and unsure of what the future would bring them, the two toons helped each other up and started to walk down the street toward the center of Guardino Heights.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the not so frequent updates. I've recently come to the realization that SATs are evil incarnate. Now that I'm done with all the introduction stuff in this story though, the chapters should be coming out at a much faster now that they're getting easier to write. **

**To address some of the anonymous reviews I couldn't reply to: **

**Danni: Thanks for the kind review! I think the whole F- thing depends on where you are. Where I live, anything 54 or below is an F-, 55 is an F, and 56 to 59 is an F+. I'm basically drawing inspiration from what I know so I might be wrong.**

**Finn: I've never read The Hunger Games but I've heard good things about it from my friends. There's a whole genre of stories with plotlines similar to this story so I sort of ended up drawing inspiration from a lot of them. One of the best is Stephen King's The Long Walk which I've heard (although I can't speak for sure) is what inspired the author The Hunger Games. I'd definitley check it out. **


	7. Chapter 7

Laying sprawled out in the night not very far from where her brother had been dropped off, awakening reluctantly like she was treading cold water, Dot Warner sat up slowly as she finished dreaming her dark and ominous dream. In it, she'd been back on an airplane.

She shivered uncomfortably and rose gradually to her knees – her face wet from the grass that could have been aptly called morning dew if a few more hours passed – with her eyes shooting back and forth like a casino slot machine as choices spun in front of her eyes like a roulette wheel. The sky was jet black over the woods aside from a few white pinpoints of light and a moon arced into a crescent. For some odd reason – as if she was an alien observing everything from a distant planet – Dot looked around at everything and felt disconnected somehow; even a little spiteful that the moon had the brashness to show its face, tempting and taunting her like walking away and stepping outside to face the sun later would be no real issue. She sat there on her knees in the grassy clearing, hugging herself and staring at up at the moon with wide eyes and wondering if it would be a better choice to go back to sleep.

"_Good day brings good sleep_," Dot thought uncomfortably and shivered again.

The outskirts of town were a barren jungle land that had seemingly frozen in time like a split second in a photo booth. Here and there throughout the woods there were quiet speed bumps to show the town only yards away growing and feeding off the trees and weeds like a terminal disease that pulled everything in like quicksand. The ground in the woods was soft on her bare feet, and every so often as Dot walked through the winding trees like a tourist in some kind of subterranean city, she would walk by what could be considered obscure roadside attractions. One minute there was an ancient packet of cigarettes sitting by an uprooted tree, proudly boasting a brand name that hadn't been produced for years with the faded color and illegible font almost looking like fine poetry to Dot. Then it was, buried in an undergrowth of bushes and briar, an overturned shopping cart with one of the rusty wheels clinging on loosely and almost tempting time – something that didn't seem to be very prominent in Guardino Heights – to give it the soft little jingle that would send it toppling down to the earth. Everything went on at that point like a display rack at a carnival yard sale. A dirty pacifier that gleamed evil light under the stars; a waterlogged tennis ball that sat buried under the leaves that almost looked like a rotten apple; broken car parts and radio transistors; old food wrappers and shattered coffee mugs that had looked like broken glass at her feet as she'd walked.

But her walking had only gone on for a short time before she simply burned out and curled up in the grass to sleep like an animal looking for shelter in a rainstorm. If anyone asked she would have blamed it on fatigue, but like countless times before, it was more for the fact that here body had just shut down – things weren't working out the way she wanted them to so it only seemed natural to go to sleep and try to make things better. Tomorrow was only a day away after all.

In the end though, the idea was really the kind of thing that sounded better on paper. She hadn't woken up back in the tower in the safety of her room; she hadn't even woken up in the safety of an airplane where she could simply ask for an aspirin and speed off to New York through the air like a bullet spit out of a gun. She instead woke up in a place that was dark and unwelcoming, the tree branches whistling above her like sheets of newspaper blowing in the street and the wind blowing through the woods like it was playing some kind of minuet. Dot listened to all of it but didn't really take it in, sitting in the woods like a girl lost in a fairy tale. This wasn't a place she was going to wake up from – this wasn't another late Friday night where she could just return home to the tower at odd hours and hopefully not succumb to a hangover the next morning. This was real now - _painfully real_.

Dot shivered and rose up slowly to her feet with an unsteady wobble that almost made her fall back down again. She stretched for a moment and started to take cautious steps like she walking on hot coals, doing her best to try to push away the dream that she'd just had just like she pushed away the other unpleasant things in her life. She even tried to convince herself that what she'd just dreamed – something she could now only retain bits and pieces of as it faded away – hadn't actually happened at all. She tried to reassure herself that she hadn't just been back on an airplane that had been moving as slowly as molasses, cruising through the air so slowly that it almost seemed like it had been propped up in the air like some kind of spinning ornament above a toddler's crib. She couldn't recall the exact details of it other than that Yakko and Wakko had been sitting beside her, although neither of them had been speaking to her. Wakko had been staring dreamily out the window, occupied to his own thoughts, while Yakko's face had been buried behind a newspaper. This in particular had struck her angrily for a very odd reason. For most of her childhood, Dot had always associated faces hidden behind newspapers with unhappy grownups, treating it like something of a prejudice. Being someone who'd vowed to never grow up, the idea of her brother – not her father but her older brother – sitting and contently reading a newspaper had angered her for some reason. Then again, spontaneously becoming an adult in her dream wasn't a far stretch for Yakko. In Dot's eyes, he'd practically managed to have done it overnight recently. _Then again, what does that say about you?_

Then the turbulence had arrived and rattled the entire plane like a jar trapped in a can opener. Luggage had gone flying from the overhead compartment and people had been screaming as oxygen masks fell down from the ceiling with stewardesses shrieking at all of them to breathe in the fresh air. Dot had obeyed immediately as the plane's altitude decreased, looking over at her brother with some confusion to realize that he wasn't putting on his oxygen mask whatsoever – in fact, he was still contently reading his newspaper. Unnerved and confused, Dot had swatted the newspaper out of his hands with some difficulty to discover that it wasn't her brother sitting there at all but a coyote. A coyote with yellowish, ancient eyes gleaming at her and tattered fur like an old carpet. Completely unaffected by the chaos going on around him, he'd leant in close to her from his seat with a sarcastic smile on his face. Even though it was a dream, Dot swore she'd been able to feel the hotness of his breathe on her face.

He asked, "_Have you been doing something you shouldn't, Dot?_"

And then, with a blinding flash of effulgence that was either a plane crash or simply the dream ending, she'd woken up sprawled out in the grass unsure of where to go or what to do.

Trudging through the darkened forest now and doing her best to push the unpleasant dream away, Dot became resigned to her thoughts. She thought of the phrase that the coyote had said – a cryptic phrase that seemed to sum up her whole life now and would have been apt enough to put on her gravestone. _Have you been doing something you shouldn't?_

Almost absolutely, the answer was a yes. In the past several years, the only thing that Dot Warner had been capable of doing were things that she shouldn't have. She _shouldn't _have escaped from the stupid private school. She _shouldn't_ have fraternized with the crowd that she hung around with and she _shouldn't_ have walked out on her brothers either. Dot shouldn't have done a lot of things. The worst part about it though – the part that kept her up at night whether it was sleeping soundly in the tower or the hundreds of other places that she'd slept in – was that most people simply looked at those flaws and dismissed her entirely. They dismissed her as a tramp or a useless teenager who would grow up momentarily to be an even more useless adult, having no conscience whatsoever. It was in these conversations that her brother was always brought up. Yakko, who had worked so hard to raise the two of them right. Yakko, who had probably felt things at the age of eighteen that most guardians didn't until they were sending their kids away to college. Dot would hear all of it and feel unbelievably guilty – maybe even a little selfish – but at the same time, she wouldn't regret her actions whatsoever.

For a very long time, the only thing that Dot had seen were people growing up. Her brother had grown up, Babs and the others had grown him, and all in all, it was only a short matter of time before Yakko would somehow found a way to get Wakko to grow up too. Watching all of it, Dot couldn't help but consider it a genocide of everything that was worth living for in the world. She'd made it clear in her mind that she wasn't going to settle down anytime soon – there wasn't going to be any waiting tirelessly for retirement in an office building or lamenting at reunions about all the good times she'd had as a child. In an almost spiteful way to show everything she thought was wrong in the world, Dot had lived. She'd done her living mostly through late night clubbing with seedy people in even seedier places, occasionally waking up in frightening places that she'd never dreamed of waking up in. It was a horribly guilty lifestyle that made her feel awful, but still, at the same time, it was a lifestyle that made it clear what she was ultimately doing the right thing – the path that everyone else on earth should have followed as well.

Dot Warner was painfully aware that she'd be staying young forever and the only thing she'd end up losing out of it would be her heart.

She sighed and kicked an ancient soda can as she walked, feeling safe and content considering how far away from the town she was. It made sense to her that everyone would hold themselves up in the apartments near the center of town, choosing to not to venture off into the ominous, dark woods on the outskirts of town where horrible things were bound to happen. It gave her a sense of security – something that she didn't get very often – and with that security, she did her best to bury her thoughts about the game itself; something that she couldn't change and wouldn't be changing anytime soon. _Nothing would…_

Her mind drifted instead to her boyfriends. After losing her heart to staying young, the massive influx of boyfriends had seemed like the next logical step for Dot. There'd been roughly twenty of them altogether, although the way Yakko over-hyped it there might as well have been a whole militia of them – a militia of toon drug addicts, gang members, and gym rats who all lived off downtown and did the club scene. Dot could hardly remember some of their names, and after awhile, they all blended together. She could remember Ace, a green chameleon with a scar jutting down from his left eyebrow, who had taken her for a fast ride in his Camaro once after they'd gone out to see his movie. She could remember Copper, a Dalmatian whose eyes were always glazed over and had always picked fights just to prove how he could take care of her. The boyfriends came and went in a wayward fashion, never really settling down for more than a few weeks, and after awhile, Dot had started to have doubts about all of it. She hadn't been dating because she'd been looking for the right guy – she'd only been dating because she liked the thrill of it. She liked the thrill of being able to stay young, high on life, and date forever – a thrill that she was absolutely terrified of losing.

Then there were the late night conversations – the conversations that practically played in her head and haunted her in her sleep:

_What's that noise?_

_Go back to sleep. I'm just going out for a walk…_

_What the hell are you doing? You're trying to leave me Dot, is that it? You're trying to sneak out of here? Good God, three in the morning – three in the goddamned morning – and you're trying to sneak out? Don't give me any of this, "I'm going for a walk," bullsh-_

_Look, I told my brother I'd be home when he wakes up tomorrow. It's a personal thing, alright? I just have to get home right now._

_You have nerve, that's what you have. You have real nerve to think I'm just going to sit back and put up with. You're going to go right out the door and walk out of here without a second thought, aren't you?_

_You shouldn't yell at me. Nobody's allowed to yell at me. I don't let them._

I hate it when I have to, Dot. I hate it when you end up doing things that you shouldn't. Now turn down the thermostat and get back to bed.

Dot shuddered at the thought of it all and started to walk more rapidly down the path, doing the best to brush all of it out of her mind. It was all so wrong – so unbelievably wrong. Yakko knew it was wrong, she knew it was wrong, and at the end of the day, practically everyone else in the world knew what the lifestyle she was living was wrong too – not only wrong, but practically self-destructive. The bottom line was that even Dot knew how she was living was hurting her – she knew every square inch of it was awful, and at the end of the day, she would quietly admit how desperate she was to back to the way things were. The only problem was that being wrong was one of the only things she knew how to do right.

And that, suddenly disrupted from her thoughts as she froze in the middle of the forest, was when she heard the voices:

"I can't keep running, Norb! I can't run! My stomach's all cramped up!

"Come on Daggett, _move it!_"

Dot hardly had any time to consider the voices whatsoever. Nearly frozen in place with the paranoia that other people were near her, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of a couple of frantic looking toons dashing through the woods in front of her, both looking on the verge of having a panic attack. There were two of them – beavers with one's fur blond and other dark brown – and in the split second where Dot first saw them, she was able to discern immediately that the blond one was the one that her brother had struck up a conversation with at the hotel; the one that she'd uneasily called a whackjob.

Dot swore under her breathe and couldn't help but curse her stupidity for walking out into the woods. If anybody wanted to stay safe, it was obviously where they were going to go. The beavers didn't seem to have any intention of attacking her however. Weaving in and out of trees at a maniacal pace that left a trail of cartoon dust in the air behind them like a roadrunner cartoon, Dot realized in awe and horror that the beavers weren't running with any intention of harming her whatsoever – they were running, instead, from somebody that was chasing them.

"Get out of here!" the brown one screamed over his shoulder as they passed her. "Come on, save yourself! This place is a crazyhouse!"

Dot stood frozen in shock as the beavers vanished into the forest behind her, almost not believing for a second that she'd even seen them at all. She felt trapped under the spotlight on stage, feeling uneasily like she was expected to do hundreds of things that weren't occurring to her. In the back of her mind, she suddenly felt quiet guilt for Yakko – this was probably how he'd been feeling the night before at dinner where he'd made his pitiful stand and called out the coyote and the others for what they were; unsure of what to do, confused, and slowly realizing that you weren't as competent as you thought you were. It was probably how he'd even felt on the helicopter when he'd been pleading for Woody to take the plunge that he'd been so unwilling to take. And you're going to end up just like him. You're going to end up just like him unless you move-

Petrified on the spot and suddenly wondering why her feet were suddenly so unresponsive, Dot couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly guilty that she'd taken this long to think about what was happening to her brothers. Just where is Yakko anyway-

A powerful sound suddenly roared through the forest almost like the world's most empowering orchestra. Dot's paralyzed fear was broken instantly as she faltered in place, nearly tripping and falling to the ground as she gawked at the direction of the sound that was coming closer by the second.

It came like the sound of church bells in a small town, ringing and pounding throughout every inch of the forest or even Guardino Heights itself. The leaves around Dot somehow began to rustle and the trees even started to sway backward like they were paper-thin, almost like they were being pushed away by an oncoming storm. Dot realized quickly that she wasn't being attacked by a someone at all but a something. She heard Yakko's voice on the helicopter screaming at the woodpecker to jump. She heard the coyote in her dreams asking her about if she'd been doing things she shouldn't. Most of all though, and somehow worst of all, she heard the nasally voice of the pimply soldier in their helicopter that had seemed like he'd been just out of high school. The soldier that has instructed them one-by-one to jump out with the blades of the helicopter roaring in their ears…

The soldier that had said, "_We have a security system of sorts…_"

The roar suddenly started again and successfully knocked Dot off her wobbly feet. Feeling teary eyed at the shock of it all, Dot gawked out toward the open forest in front of her as what looked like a bulldozer began to tear through and swallow the terrain in front of it, moving like the complex doomsday device used by a villain in a superhero cartoon. It seemed to buckle and rise up and down with a spirited kind of vigor however, moving not like it was made of cogs and gears but alive and moving with the temperament of the forest ground beneath it. The over powering stench of oil came reeking down the forest trail as it bounded forward, wheezing and breathing out in mechanical pumps of air like it had a mind of its own. The metal shaft of its body eventually rose up into a large craned neck, giving the whole thing the appearance of a robotic bird with the body of an enormous military tank. The thing howled a third time and one of the pumps decorating the top of it – one of the many little pumps that decorated its surface like a foreign planet – blew out a turret of smoke like an industrial factory with a whiny howling sound. It was then, however, that Dot noticed why the thing seemed to jump out at her oddly – why it seemed disconnected and strange with the natural environment of the forest. Rather than having the shades and shines of real metal, the thing seemed flat like a cartoon placed on a real-life backdrop. The thing – the machine – was two-dimensional. Like her.

For a second Dot was disbelieving of what she was even seeing. It almost seemed like a continuation of her dream on the plane where her senses would come rushing back to her in only a moment, rewarding her by letting her wake up safely in a grassy knoll somewhere in the forest. Better yet it would let her wake up back in the tower as an eight-year old girl again with everything that had happened to her leading up to this forgotten. Instead Dot realized that this thing was very, very real, coming at her with speed that even seemed to rival the toonish speed of which the beavers had desperately fled from it with.

Dot opened her mouth to scream but no words came out. Sitting on the ground and too petrified to get up, it was almost like the thing had her in a trance. It slowed to a halt as it neared her and seemed to reach out with its mighty crane neck, examining her and scrutinizing her the way a lab student would examine a bug under a microscope. The front of the crane began to open up like the metal fan of a sonar, and then, revealing itself like the bud of a growing flower was what looked like a mirrored television screen.

Then the colors came.

Dot stared in awe at the colors that appeared on the screen that had revolved out of the machine. She stood transfixed as they seemed to interconnect and blind together, capturing her in a hypnotic trance where the colors seemed to reach out for her. The colors were impossible to name and classify – if she was in any more conscious state of mind, Dot would accurately have said that the colors were entirely new to her and that she'd never seen them before. It was almost like she was staring at colors of an artist's palette that existed on another planet. They had a diminishing effect on her however, and in a moment, the forest had started to melt away with only a lighthearted smile on her face. It was almost like every worry she'd had – every concern that she'd been plagued with ever since arriving – had suddenly been alleviating. She was practically in heaven as she looked at the colors, only feeling the things in life that mattered to her; the things in life that made her feel happy. _Memories. Eighth birthday and blowing out the candles. Going out on Halloween with Fifi and the others. Playing tag out by the dormitories with Wakko. I'm little now. I'm little again and it's alright because things are good. I'm only little now and I'm getting tucked in by Yakko. He's singing something to me, he's a good singer, he's singing -_

And the whole time, she was completely unaware of the fact that the colors seemed to be charging – almost like they were getting ready to fire...

"What are you waiting for? Come on!"

Dot was snapped out of the trance instantly, glancing around in a blinding panic over her shoulder to see with confusion that both of the beavers had come back for her. The blond – the whack job with the purple nose that her brother had been talking to - had grabbed his shoulder with his black, webbed paw and urging her to stand up; the brown one was frantically screaming out things that Dot couldn't understand behind him. Both of them were opening their mouths and yelling, but over the roar of the impending machine about to fire something at the two of them. Dot couldn't hear anything at all – it really was like being trapped in a nightmare.

The next thing Dot knew she was fleeing through the forest and cringing at the burning burst of fiery light that had incinerated the spot that the two of them had just been standing. With Dot's senses now returned to her, she ran at breakneck toon speed with the beaver at her side, weaving in and out of the trees and only vaguely aware that the machine was just not beginning to accelerate again behind them, almost like it had realized that it hadn't gotten its catch of the day after all. The three of them running together went on for what felt like at least five minutes, their screaming diminished to panting as their hearts pounded in their chests.

Eventually the sound of the mechanical whirring gave out to the quiet sounds of the forest. The three of them ended up collapsing in a small clearing beside a stream, all of them bruised by scurrying over logs and torn by thorn bushes but very much alive. They all lay there panting, none of them saying much of anything but idly confined to their own thoughts that they'd made it. Dot was suddenly left blinking and struggling to fight off the strange effect that the colors had on her, almost making it seem like she hadn't even existed for a moment. She shuddered at the thought of herself sitting there and staring vacantly out toward the machine, wanting to be in those colors and suddenly unaware of anything else in the world. Thinking back at it, and even as much as she tried to shake it away, Dot couldn't help but feel on the verge of tears for some reason. It wasn't possible – it shouldn't have even been possible, but like most things, it had still found a way to happen. _Just what the hell was going on anyway?_

"That was nuts!" the brown beaver cried after a moment.

Dot watched as the beaver yelped out in exasperation before falling over on his back, resting contently the way a winner of a marathon would recline out on the ground after winning. It was then that she noticed something that she hadn't really taken notice of until now – the two beavers looked similar. Not just similar, but related while still carrying more than a handful of quips to tell them apart. The brown one had a nasally voice and eyes that looked like he never slept along with teeth that – as a result of him being drawn that way or dental problems – were sharpened and jutted slightly out of his mouth. The blond one that had tried to save her – now sitting on the ground beside her and breathing heavily – was handsome with locks of spiky hair that was now matted with twigs and dirt. Still struggling to regain her composure, Dot guessed idly that they were brothers, if not fraternal twins judging by the fact that they looked about the same age.

"You alright?" the blonde beaver asked her in between breathes.

"Never better," Dot sighed.

"Pretty wild stuff, huh?"

"I've seen wilder."

"Do me a favor and lift up your dress for a second."

Dot thought she hadn't hurt him right. "Huh?"

"I said lift up your dress."

Despite everything that had happened, Dot wasn't scared to let her fighting spirit shine through. She stood up vigorously, suddenly sure that she'd heard the beaver right – that he'd given her the demand that she'd heard more than a few times on her date with her deadbeat boyfriends. It was a strange time now to flat out admit that they were all deadbeats – every last one – but if anything, the near-death encounter had suddenly given Dot a sense of perception. Nobody was going to lay a finger on her.

"Look buddy," Dot said harshly. "Are you going to be an asshole? I know you people like the back of my hand, and on the subject of that hand, it's going to be hitting your pretty boy face pretty hard unless you think fast and back off."

"No petite fille," the blond beaver said with a sigh. Dot couldn't help but notice he almost looked amused. "As a matter of fact, I'm not going to be asshole. I'm going to be a doctor. But whether I'm an asshole, a doc-toir, or anything else that falls between, well, I think I'm more than inclined to let a girl knows if she's bleeding or not."

"Oh…."

Dot suddenly realized that he was staring down at her leg. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, she felt a wave of embarrassment sweep over her when she saw the long twin trickles of blood seeping down from near her knee; she'd cut herself running and the whole deliria of everything hadn't even given her a chance to notice until now. The beaver hadn't been making any advances toward her. He'd been asking her to lift up her skirt so he could see her wound. While her aforementioned fighting spirit might have helped Dot out on any other day, she could only reluctantly admit now that her snappy attitude had come back to bite her. Dot was embarrassed.

"Oh…" Dot muttered. "Alright, I guess I didn't noti-

"Here," the blonde beaver said. "Hold still…"

She watched nervously as he reached into hammerspace and pulled out an orange bottle of clear liquid that looked like to Dot like the ominous little trinkets in the bathroom in the cabinet that she'd been warned not to touch as a child. He swished it animatedly, even going as far to flip it in the air like a sideshow performer, before he uncorked it like a wine bottle and pulled out a cotton swab from behind his back, proceeding to dab it down with it. Throughout his little routine, Dot couldn't help but notice that his brother looked away, almost annoyed of the fact that he was showing off.

"Man, that was crazy," the brown beaver muttered under his breathe. "Something out of a horror movie, you know? Late night shock-show stuff!

"That's one way to put it," the blonde one as he finished dabbing the cotton swab with the liquid. "Here, this might sting a little so be ready…"

"What is that stuff anyway?" Dot said as her noise wrinkled. "It smells like piss."

"Hydrogen peroxide," the blonde one said simply as he dabbed her wound, which stung just as much as he'd said it would. "A substitute for rubbing alcohol, otherwise known as isopropyl alcohol, specifically known here as Formula 23-H. A liquid used commonly for topical application. Rare side effects include flushing, headaches, and damage of the central nervous system. Order now in this special TV offer."

"Way to go, Merriam Webster," the brown one said with an eye roll. "We don't even know the chick for ten minutes and you're already trying to prove you're smarter than her. And why are you speaking German all the time? We're not German. We don't speak German. We don't even know anyone that does!"

"Au contraire mon frère," the blond one said without looking up from dabbing Dot's ankle. "It's actually French that rolls off my tongue." He turned to look up at Dot almost apologetically. "I'm sorry if I sound weird. I'm not even really sure if half of the stuff I'm saying is right or not. Sometimes I just use the sound of my voice to calm my nerves. Get me scared enough I'll ramble on like this for hours.

Dot couldn't help but smile. "You should meet my brother…"

"I think I already have. I'm Norbert Beaver. Call me Norb if you want. I really don't care.

"Dot Warner."

"Nice to meet you," Norb said as he went on dabbing her wound. "I sure wish the situation was better though. Of course, it's not like I'm trying to be a killjoy or anything. I mean, if you want one of those you only have to look next to me. This rambunctious little rodent here is my little broh-thare Daggett."

"Little brother by two minutes," Daggett corrected immediately. "And cut the rambunctious part."

"Will do," Dot said with a smile that quickly faded when Norb dabbed her ankle again. "I'm…I'm sorry I flipped out at the guys like that…"

"It's fine," Norb said again. "Here, just hold still."

She watched with mild interest which turned to uneasiness when he pulled out a thread and needle. Before she could say anything, Norb launched into an elaborate routine of stitching her wound, doing it so fast that toonish, animated smoke began to drift out of her wound like the steam of a factory's chimney. Dot noticed with mild interest that he was able to do it so quickly that it didn't even hurt at all, quickly finishing the first stitch and pulling out the thread to start on the second. A habitual silence followed as the three of them sat there in the clearing, conversation dying down quietly as Norb went on working on her ankle. It was Norb's brother, relatively soft spoken until a minute ago, who decided quietly brought a more pressing issue back into the picture.

"Maybe it was a monster," Daggett said uneasily.

"If that thing was a monster then I'm Celine Dion," Norb said as he pulled out the thread a second time. "It looked like a machine when I saw it up close…."

"That's because it was a machine," Dot said suddenly with stark realization. She barely noticed that both beavers turned to look at her in surprise. "Or, well, something like that. It's their security system. They were talking about it when we were all up in the helicopter before. They didn't go into detail on it or anything. I mean, they'd be helping us if they did that. I remember the guy talking seemed nervous about it though when he talked – almost like it scared him or something." She paused for a moment, shuddering as he thought back to it. It felt hot when I was close to it…. "

"A secure-uh-tay system," Norb said with a phony, frightened laugh as he dabbed her ankle with the cotton swab again. "Man, you'd think they'd just build a barb wire fence or something and call it a day…"

"Well, we'd be able to get out of that one easy," Dot said. "I mean, a quick rabbit hole underground and a good jump and you'd be free as a bird…."

"Well, I don't think that's happening anytime soon," Daggett said. He sat back up from the ground and stared up through the forest canopy wistfully like someone on a hill cloud watching. "You know, I think it'd be about eight-thirty in New York right now – you know, if we actually made it there I mean. I probably would have walked around a little – spent the day checking out the sights until it got dark. Then I'd probably check out the nightlife. Maybe do the whole drinking scene at the club and get a few girls numbers. Then I'd-

"You hate drinking, Daggett," Norb said exasperatedly without looking away from his work. "The last time dad gave you a beer you threw up."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, well, I think that's a story best left out of the Christmas card, Norby," Daggett snapped with a hand gesture. In between Norb's calm persona and Daggett's social awkwardness, Dot was suddenly eerily reminded of a conversation between Yakko and Wakko. "Come on, why do you have to go and bring this stuff up whenever you get the chance? You're killing me here. I mean, I'm sure a self-respecting girl like Dit here doesn't want to here these stupid gross-out stories that-

"Dot" she said fiercely. "My name's Dot."

"Oh right," Daggett said quietly. "Well, sorry then I guess…"

The beaver seemed to recoil slightly, almost like Dot had hurt his self-esteem. It almost seemed like he'd been trying to impress her. Norb, meanwhile, had occupied himself in his own thoughts as he stitched away on her leg with toonish speed. As he worked Dot craned her neck and looked around the clearing, wondering how long the walk back to town would be and wondering even further how much she really wanted to go. A few minutes passed in an awkward silence – made even more awkward by the fact that Norb seemed to be calming his nerves by humming, "La Bamba" – as they all sat thinking their own private thoughts. Once again after a few minutes - and almost to Dot's displeasure - Daggett found a way to drift their conversation back to the subject of the security system.

"You know," Daggett said darkly. "I don't think that thing that chased us was made by a human…"

"So what, then?" Norb asked as he finished the third stitch. "Was it made by monkeys?"

"No spoothead, I'm not stupid. It's the middle of autumn – if there's any monkeys around here, they're hibernating! What I am trying to get out though, is the fact that that thing didn't move like it was a machine. It didn't move like it was operating because it had cogs and gears that a human built into it – it didn't move the way reality says it's supposed to, you know? The way it chased after us was like it had a mind of its own or something. What I'm trying to tell you is that maybe it was built by a toon!"

"I think he's right," Dot said quietly. "That's…that's what I thought when I looked at it up close."

"Hmm," Norb mused. For a second it seemed to Dot that he was going to say something but he only started on the fourth stitch.

"It was just a theory," Daggett said. "I didn't want to scare you guys or anything." He paused. "Why do you think they're doing this?

"Beats me," Norb said. "You're all patched up by the way, petite fille."

Dot glanced down and saw that her leg was now entirely patched up – not just entirely patched up, but looking like it hadn't even been scratched at all. There was no sign of a scar on her black fur whatsoever and any sign of the stitches wasn't visible whatsoever. It was almost like Norb had simply waved his hand and made her wound vanish like magic.

"Hey, you did that fast!" Dot exclaimed.

"Consider it free of charge," Norb said as he sat up. "I'm just glad it's over if you want to know the truth. I can get my medical degree ten times in a row but I'll never get used to looking at blood. It's weird, I know. It's sort of like becoming a skydiving instructor and being scared of heights. Speaking of skydiving, where'd they drop you off?

"Just outside of town," Dot replied. "I thought I'd attract less attention if I-

"Hid in the woods," Norb finished for her with a grim smile. "Looks like great minds think alike. Anyway, I guess we're lucky we ran into you. We'd probably be beaver filet migon if you didn't find us. Daggett and I weren't on the same helicopter but I guess we lucked out somehow – they ended up dropping us off only about two hundred feet away from each other. Maybe they just lucked us – either that or its just fate that I can't keep the guy away from me.

"I was walking on the side of the forest when Norb found me," Daggett explained. Dot noticed uneasily that he was taking keen interest in looking at her again. "I was trying to see how far it stretched – maybe even try to find a way out if I was lucky! You know, just trying to see if anyone else needed help. All in a day's work if you know what I me-

"Dag, I found you over there by the bushes curled up in a ball crying for mom…"

"I wasn't crying, spoothead!" Daggett said harshly. "It's just the woods. I have bad allergies. And what's with all of this little guy crap you keep giving me? I'm younger than you by two minutes! Two! Just because mom and dad decided to pour the family savings into your stupid college fund doesn't put you up on the goddamned pedestal-

"I never said that," Norb sighed. He looked tired of arguing, almost like it was something he had to do every day. "Anyway, we kind of just wandered around until that thing attacked us…"

"Yeah, that thing…" Daggett repeated hesitantly. He said it slowly, almost like he was still in deep thought about his theory about it. Dot couldn't blame him. Her encounter with whatever the thing would probably be imprinted in her mind forever.

"But you're really a doctor, though?" Dot asked. She was only talking to be polite now and trying to figure out what direction town was. "I mean, you weren't joking or something when you said it before?

"Was going to be a doctor," Norb replied. "Not sure what's going to happen now I was flying out to New York to accept this job I got offered at a hospital. Daggett was kind of tagging along with me for the ride. The more I think about it, the more angry I get that I got gypped so easily…"

"Norb graduated med school a couple of weeks ago," Daggett said rapidly. "We all went to his graduation and dad paid for a big dinner at this fancy, shmancy rich place after. The milkshakes there were so good that-"

But Dot didn't hear him. As he'd been speaking, she'd been craning her neck back to the woods toward town. Her feet had started to move involuntarily away from the beavers, almost like the two of them had reached a fork in the road with her taking her own direction. She hugged herself and muttered a quiet goodbye under her breathe, feeling unbelievably awkward and started to traipse off toward the long stretch of trees that would eventually lead to the center of town. While part of it may have seemed downright rude, part of it was the fact that Dot simply felt overwhelmed, almost like she'd been walking through a dream ever since seeing these colors. She was suddenly listening to her like a compass, telling her to go wherever she felt she was supposed to.

"Hey, where are you going?" Daggett called out.

"Look I appreciate you guys lending a hand," Dot sighed as she turned around hesitantly to face them. "Really, I do. But I'm really better off on my own here. I mean, don't get me wrong or anything. I definitely owe you one for stitching me up there but I'd rather walk to the beat of my own drum if you know what I mean. There's kind of something I have to do and I'd rather have nobody else get roped into it." She paused. "I…I kind of walk out on people a lot. I'd rather just do it now before you guys get to know me."

The beaver brothers were staring at her like she'd just turned into a space alien. Dot gulped softly and wondered why everything she said came out so horrible, almost like somebody else was in charge of her words rather than her. For a short moment in time there she even wished she was Yakko for a moment, knowing just what to say to guide a situation with expertise. It was the first time she'd honestly respected her brother in ages and it caught her off-guard – it also made her want to find him even more.

"I have people I'm looking for," Dot said simply. "Two of them. I'd rather have you guys hiding then following me around and keeping lookou-

"But you can't leave!" Daggett almost wailed. "We were all going to-

"It's fine, Daggett," Norb cut in. He looked with interest at Dot. "What, are you looking for your brothers?"

"Might as well," Dot said. "One's too scared to do anything but hear the sound of his own voice and the other's a loose cannon. I don't want to think of what's going to happen if I don't find them."

"Hey, I get you," Norb said. "I felt the same thing about Daggett when I got here…"

"I'm not going to force you to come with us or anything. I'm not like that. But the least I could do before you leave is tell you a story. Are you alright with that?"

"I guess..."

"Even if it's kind of weird?"

"I guess…."

"I guess, I guess," Norb repeated dismissively. "Man, you're starting to sound like a parrot. Anyway, the story goes as follows. They put three baby squirrels in three separate cages – well, technically four baby squirrels. The first one you see, they put him in the cage with his mother. They give the second one a little chew toy. The third one gets nothing. Then the scientists go and kick back for a month or two, just sitting back with their clipboards and watched what happened."

"I'm scared of squirrels," Daggett said. It was becoming more awkward to around him by the minute. "They always look at me funny in the park."

"I think they're cute," Dot said. "Why would you do a test like that on squirrels? I mean, they're not even that smart-

"Hey, even a blind squirrel finds an acorn sometimes," Norb cut in. He lowered his voice. "I don't think we're really in the position to say who's smart and who's not – the people in those heeli-cop-toirs would have said we're no different from the squirrels if you asked them. Anyway, the guys in the lab coats started taking notes. They fed the squirrels but they gave them nothing to entertain themselves – nada, zilch! Ingenting! Ei mitään! The three of them just sat there. The first one – the one with the mother – turned out just fine. I mean sure, he didn't have much but at least he had someone who cared about him."

"That's nice," Dot said. It was a stupid thing to be happy about but it struck her powerfully for some reason. "I guess that's all you really need in the end, huh?

"Wait until you hear how the story ends," Norb said darkly. "The second squirrel didn't turn out as great. It got, well, kind of _spacey_ after awhile, but still, it was able to function normally. It was the chew toy they gave it – it may not have had anyone that loved it, but I guess it found a weird kind of com-pash-ión in the little ring-ding chew toy thing. Have you ever seen that movie Castaway where Tom Hanks starts talking to the volleyball? It's sort of like that."

"I've seen it," Dot said quickly. "What happened to the third one?

"Well, that's where I'm getting to. The third – the one who didn't have anything – went, well, for the lack of a better way to put it, criminally insane. It started to get agitated like it had rabies and claw at the bars. After awhile, it just sort of gave up and stopped breathing. They just kind of found it sitting there."

The conclusion of the story was punctuated by the most deafening silence that Dot had ever heard, almost like a joke that had started off pleasant but fallen completely flat in the end. A wind blew past them almost cryptically finishing off Norb's words, brushing past Dot and making her shiver as she considered all of it.

"That's a stupid story," Daggett said finally.

"It's not stupid," Dot said quietly. "It's just disturbing."

"I guess you're both right," Norb said. "It's stupid that they'd do it and it's disturbing that it worked. If you want to know the truth, I'm sorry I shared it with you.

"So let me get this straight," Dot said slowly. As strange as it was, she couldn't help but smile. "You're trying to persuade me into coming with you by comparing me to a criminally insane squirrel?"

"I guess you can see why I'm single," Norb said with a quiet laugh. "If it's not people not getting what I'm talking about twenty-four seven, it's people telling me I'm crazy. And if it's not that it's people like you telling me I'm an asshole."

"I guess it was a cool story," Daggett admitted after a moment. "Almost like something out of a movie. I mean, it was just kind of weird."

"Meh, who isn't weird these days, Dag?" Norb sighed dismissively. "We're running a nationwide circus in my opinion. The point is though Dot Warner, that nobody's an island. You can walk to the beat of your own drum all you want, but in the end, we all end up in the same place when life's over. Before we're there though, we might as well find some people to share how we're feeling." He finished the story with a sigh, letting his words hang melodramatically in the air. "I really hope that made sense. It probably came out sounding really condescending and stupid. I'm a pretty bad psychologist. I figured I'd rather play around with organs than actually talk to people."

"No, it made sense," Dot said hesitantly. "At least I think it did. It's just…it's hard to trust anyone anymore for me. I'm not good at warming up to strangers."

"Well, let's start over then," Norb said simply. He held out his hand in a friendly gesture "Hi, my name's Norbert and this is my brother Daggett. The two of us grew up in Pine Shrubs, California. When I was in high school, I filled in for my friend in our spring musical, in turn leading to a talent scout seeing me, in turn leading to the two of us being whisked off to the seedy bowels of Burbank, in turn leading to both of us getting a duo role in the forgotten 1990's classic of _Angry Beavers_ on the long-since gone-to-shambles channel of Nickelodeon. Long story short, our show was cancelled, a few other things happened, and now – roughly five years later – here we are. Now it's your turn."

"Dot Warner," she began. She started out hesitantly but the words soon came flowing with ease. "I grew up on the WB lot. I got drawn there so I don't have any parent story for you. I was a child star on this show called _Animaniacs_ with my brothers for about six years until the network gave us the boot and, well, here _I am_."

Norb smiled. "Pleased to meet you."

"And I'm Daggett," his brother perked up. "But, well, I guess we covered that already…"

"Yeah," Dot said with a small grin. "Yeah, I think we did."

It was one of the first times in a long time that Dot had felt in good company aside from her brothers – one of the first times she'd met people who almost seemed decent to her. It was a new feeling and it seemed foreign to her - almost like something she should have pushed away. She thought feverishly about what she'd felt when she'd look at the colors in the security system, thinking back to all those old times and feelings that she hadn't felt in years – things that had made her laugh, or feel happy. It had been a long time since Dot Warner had really felt like Dot Warner. Her eyes scanned from beaver to beaver for a long time, almost judging both of them like the world's most complicated court case. At the end, and doing her best to start closing the door in her mind behind her, she even managed to smile.

"I guess it can't hurt to come with you guys," Dot said finally.

"Alright!" Daggett said excitedly as he pumped a fist in the air. It seemed like the news of the century to him. "Then we'll take this place by storm! We'll be the Three Callaberros, the Three Musketeers, the –

"The only thing I'll ever be three of, beaver boy…" Dot said with a grin. "Is a Warner and I'm going to find the other two if my life depends on it. After that, I'm not going to rest until this town is wiped off the face of the earth."

Norb looked interested. "Making plans?

"Making dreams," Dot said wistfully. She shivered as a fresh breeze of morning air whipped by. "I'm not sure if they're going to come true or not."

Norb laughed at this for some reason. "Well, let's get a move on then. I don't want to risk that thing coming back and catching us by surprise."

"Hey, I'll protect you if you need help," Daggett said eagerly as he took a step forward. "If you get too tired I'll carry you but it can't be for long. I mean, I'm not really that strong or anything but if you really need it I'll be glad to help you ou-

"Don't worry. I think I can manage."

There was a good-natured laugh among the three of them for no real reason other than finding good company. It was the familiar cry of the security system ten minutes later however, roaring over the trees in the distance and almost glorying in having found someone else to chase, that finally got them all moving.

* * *

Even after everything that had happened, the first thing that hit Wakko Warner when he woke up was that he was hungry – not just hungry, but starving. It then occurred to him that – if everything that had transpired in the last few hours wasn't a dream – that this was one of the longest spans of time he'd gone without eating anything. Feeling feather light as consciousness came drifting steadily back to him like a melting iceberg, he could almost see the little vignettes – the little obscure wishes - flash in front of his eyes. A banana split drowned in chocolate syrup. A hot dog soaking with mustard, relish, and enough condiments to make any normal person sick. For some odd reason he suddenly had the craving for a peanut butter sandwich with melted marshmallows – an odd tradition that Yakko had made for him back when he was little and had ceased to make altogether after the fiasco with Dot's escape from private school. He thought about it dreamily for a second as he woke up, but then - as reality kicked in – the wistful thoughts vanished and became increasingly frightened. _Yakko. Dot. Where were they anyway?_

He thought about the last time he'd seen them – _the hotel room_; their lackluster final, little moment together in that hotel room that they'd been almost completely silent for. It was a silence that Wakko had done his best to break but, remembering it now, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed about it as he thought back to the mango; the mango that he'd had for breakfast that seemed eons ago and seemed like malnourishment now more than anything else. Wakko cringed for a moment and thought back to eating the stupid little thing and striking up a conversation – nothing serious, just a casual conversation to lighten the mood. It was normally something that his brother would have done, but with the pressure of everything that had happened weighing in on Yakko Warner like no tomorrow, Wakko had thought it best to let him pass down the torch and try to lighten things up. It had been a offhand little maneuver to show that things weren't bad – that things were going to get better – that even throughout everything that had happened, they could still eat breakfast and have a perfectly normal conversation. If it didn't make him feel any better, he'd had the offhand hope that it would for his siblings – it hadn't. Looking back at it all now, uneasily remembering Yakko and Dot staring at him in the suite, Wakko couldn't help but feel embarrassed at how awkward he was. _Why was he thinking about this now anyway? Shouldn't he have been thinking about someth-_

The second thing that hit him was that there was a burlap sack over his head.

"What are you going to do with him now...?"

"Nothing. We're just going to wait."

Wakko felt his heart skip a beat as he flexed his gloved hands and realized that they'd been tied down to the arms of a chair. He was indoors and there was a ceiling fan battering above him, casting shadows on the folds of the burlap as he struggled to raise his head – he couldn't though. The back Wakko's head was aching like it had been weighed down below sea level with an iron weight, and with the grogginess of waking up now settling into complete fear, he felt common sense slowly come back into function – just how had he ended up here to begin with? He could remember jumping out of his helicopter – an easier feat than it seemed when you got past the nerve-wracking process of waiting for your turn – and he could remember being tugged and torn by the wind as he plummeted down through the sky with the air whipping out tears from his eyes. Then he could remember the street lamps as he'd wandered down the street, feeling their orange light seem to reach out at him in the early morning darkness. _And after that…and after that…_

And after that he could only remember everything happening now – now where he was sitting in a chair and suddenly aware of the voices of toons that seemed to be standing by him. The voices that seemed harsh on his tired ears and seemed determined to painfully pound every syllable into his head:

"Come on Scrooge, you didn't have to knock him out like that. He didn't even do anything wrong…"

"Listen sonny, the first person we trust out here is the one that's going to have our guts for garters! I'm not dropping out of this game early for a stupid mistake! I don't trust anyone – not even myself!"

"You didn't have to hurt him though – I mean, I wouldn't have hurt him if I were you. He wasn't doing anything…"

Wakko did his best to listen carefully but, sitting in the chair with the sack room over his head, he only felt disconnected from it all – it was almost like he was listening to an old western radio show with the lights turned off. Two criminals had just gotten their hands on a guy who had been giving them trouble and now – in their secret hideaway on the outskirts of town – they were trying to figure out what to do with him. The only issue now was, rather than the sheriff busting in at the conclusion of the drama to save the day, there wasn't any police force at all – no heroes, no nothing. Wakko was slowly growing accustomed to the fact that they'd been thrown into a dog-eat-dog world where literally everyone was turning against each other – there wasn't going to be a cavalcade on horseback coming to save them or even the army coming into the town to liberate the game. As far as they knew for now, they were on their own. Wakko thought back to the dinner party and how easily he'd been tricked – the revelation had him more powerfully than anyone else, mainly for the fact of how easy he'd been roped into blindly accepting everything. With things going as badly as they were, the sudden appearance of a five-course dinner stopping Wakko from being dragged to New York by his increasingly declining brother was almost like a gift of heaven. There hadn't been a thought in his head as he gorged on the bread rolls and lasagna that anything was wrong – it all just seemed ideal; the moment that he was waiting for. _Everything was going to solve itself and be okay. There wasn't going to be any more fighting. Everything was going to go back to the way they were…_

But they hadn't and now the only thing he had to show for her was a burlap sack over his head in a place that was surreal and unknown to him. Wakko grimaced in the hot and stuffy burlap as he thought back to the whole ordeal of the previous night. He thought about all of those people that had been sitting across from him, people he might have seen on the street in Burbank any day, whether he was playing his music idly on the street to make some spare change or going down to that place on the corner to get a coffee. These were all strangers – some of them knew each other better than others, but in the end, they were all in the same boat.

Starting to feel his hot breathe cloud up the sack, Wakko thought about the handful of people he'd seen glimpses of – whether in the past few days or his entire life - but not really ever known that well. That beaver that his brother knew somehow. Rita with her stupid, "I don't care," speech in the suite. The Fifi girl he'd went to school with. Even Buster and Babs - two people who had been his brother's friends more than his – but had reinforced to Wakko just how horrible everything that was happening was. They were a couple – a couple that had known each other since their childhood nonetheless – who were expected just like everyone else to do their best to be the one emerging winner. Even half-awake in a sweltering bag with his thoughts clouded over, Wakko would have stood up until the end of the day for the fact that it didn't make any sense. _Then again, what does?_

As much as anyone would consider him a freeloader, Wakko couldn't help but feel like the rusty chain holding the whole Warner family together. Ever since Dot has devolved into a stranger drifting in and out of the tower in the odd hours of the night, Yakko had started to change even to the point where Wakko had become frightened about what was going to happen. His brother acted the same on the outside, laughing and cracking jokes like there was no tomorrow, but at the same time, there was something robotic about him now – almost like he was only acting that way because it was how he felt he was supposed to act. Wakko felt his presence in the house at least reminded Yakko that he still had some semblance of a family. Along with that, the whole aspect of going out into the cold world and living on his own had never really appealed to him either. He'd never really been good at anything other than playing the piano and that was more of a stress reliever than anything else – the idea of finding a job, especially with the state of things, was kind of growing more abysmal by the minute. There'd been Sunday mornings where Yakko had done his best to help him, going through job openings in the newspaper and circling offers with a red pen, but it more of a charitable gesture than anything else. Out of partly fear and partly lack of enthusiasm, Wakko hadn't gone to a job interview in six months.

He sometimes thought he would be entirely content living in the slums of Burbank, homeless with only the clothes on his back, as long as Yakko and Dot were still with him. They'd really been the only people who had ever understood him - the people who hadn't typecast him as someone's uncool younger brother or just labeled him weird altogether.

At the same time though, there was something about that tower that still appealed to him – something that haunted him when he sat there in the middle of the night and stared up at the ceiling in his bed, hearing the trammeling of cars deep on the road beneath the tower and gazing around his humble abode. He'd look at the scattered piano music sprawled out on the ground, the half-eaten plates of food littered around like a pigsty, the strange and almost creepy Don Knotts bobble head he kept on his dresser, and finally at the picture sitting on the desk on the other side of the room. It was a picture that had been taken near the end of the nineties with one of those old Polaroid cameras for some reason, developed instantly and capturing the moment. It had been at the celebratory carnival that the studio executives had thrown for them to celebrate the six-year conclusion of their show. The picture showed all three of them standing beside each other by the midway rides – Yakko being sixteen, Wakko being thirteen, and Dot twelve – smiling at the camera with one of their friends taking the picture in front of them. Wakko would sometimes stare at it for a long time, feeling the need to make some kind of bold statement but not really feeling intelligent enough to say anything interesting. It was frightening in a way – almost enough sometimes to keep him up into the odd hours of the night – but it would never make him even considering throwing the picture out. It was almost like he heard a voice in his head every time he looked at it. _You grew up, buddy…_

Feeling like he was about to gag now in the hotness of the bag, Wakko suddenly realized that the one thing about his life back home and the game now was exactly the same – at the end of the day, he only had two people in the world that he really cared about.

The rest of the world was frightening to him for some reason, almost the way a small little muskrat would stare out at an open savannah. Feeling his mind ramble in the hotness of the sack, he thought of all the times he'd last seen his siblings, only seeing their faces in quiet glimpses before they faded away. Dot waiting by the gate at the airport and flipping through her stupid magazine. Yakko offering him a weary smile as he helped him put his bag in the overhead compartment on the plane. Even that short discussion in the hallway that Yakko had given him – the one about his outbursts and, looking around at all of the soldiers, if now would have been a good time to have one. Looking back at it now, Wakko couldn't help but feel spiteful about the whole thing. How different would things have been if he'd just had one of those outbursts and reduced the Valando Inn to a pile of rubble? What triggered the stupid things anyway? Why couldn't he have them on the spot? How was he going to not have them now if he didn't have his meds with him? How could he have stopped all this from happe-

"Do you think he can breathe through the burlap?" the quieter voice asked suddenly.

The louder voice got hostile. "Listen sport, if you care that much why don't you go and ask him when he wakes-

"Up," Wakko cut in curtly.

He could hear the sound of one of the toons – probably the louder one – gasping and nearly jumping out of his skin as he stepped backward and hit what sounded like a table. Wakko felt his heart beat like a riveting drum now, terrified and wondering why he'd done exactly what he'd just did. There was no telling what was going to happen now.

"Knock him out!" the louder voice screamed. "Get him while he's down! Don't listen to anything the boy says! He's one of them! He has to be! Just knock him out!"

"Calm down," the smaller voice said. It seemed closer to Wakko than the other and suddenly oddly familiar. "I think I know this guy…."

Wakko was almost blinded when the burlap sack was lifted off his head and let in harsh, florescent kitchen light than nearly burned his eyes. He winced like a newly rescued miner and squinted around the room, trying to make it out through hazy vision. He was sitting in an unkempt apartment kitchen that looked like it hadn't been properly maintained in years with grubby countertops and a refrigerator that seemed like it hadn't been replaced since the 50's. The wallpaper was vomit-yellow and a large hole sat squarely in the floor behind the dining room table, ravaged by termites and opening up to the living room of the apartment directly underneath. In the back of his mind, Wakko had the strange image of the owners of this apartment kneeling down by the hole and asking their neighbors if they wanted to come over for dinner. Looking the whole room, it was the kind of disgusting place that would send someone like Dot into cardiac arrest. Wakko was so shocked by his new surroundings that he didn't even notice the person sitting in front of him until they screamed excitedly in his face:

"Wakko!"

"Skippy!"

Sure enough, Skippy Squirrel - nineteen, chocolate furred, and looking like he hadn't aged whatsoever with his permanent baby face - was grinning at him ear-to-ear as he knelt down beside him, holding the burlap sack in his hands. Having to do a double take for a second as he looked at his old costar, Wakko found his mind drifting back to something that Dot had said the night before. This is like a high school reunion from hell…

"Wakko!" Skippy cried happily. "I knew that accent anywhere! It's Liverpool, right? Wow, I don't know how I didn't see it before! How have you been buddy? What's it been - nine years? You look great! Well, not really I guess. I mean, you're all bloody and stuff but I didn't mean it like tha-"

"I get what you mean," Wakko said with a laugh. It was one of his first genuine laughs in awhile. "It's great to see you too Skippy!"

The squirrel smiled but Wakko couldn't help but notice that he looked extremely nervous, almost like he was frightened of offending him or something. Craning over his neck, Wakko stared for a moment at the other toon – the louder one – that he'd heard earlier. Now that he was out of the hot and sweltering bag, he was met with the revelation that the toon was an elderly white duck wearing a blue suit and wire-rimmed spectacle sitting in front of a pair of beady eyes. Wakko immediately recognized Scrooge McDuck, a faded cartoon celebrity and publicized business mogul whose scowling picture he often saw on the front of boring economy magazines that Yakko read sometimes. He was glaring at Wakko in a hostile fashion, standing cautiously behind the table and almost daring him to make the first move. Considering the fact that the duck was holding what looked like a blunt cane, Wakko had the uneasy feeling based on their discussion earlier that he was the one that had knocked him out.

"The feeling's mutual," Skippy said with a grin. "Man, I thought I'd never see you again – heck, I thought I'd never see any of you guys again! How have you been? Do you still hang around with anybody from the old days? How are your brother and sister? Are you guys still living in the tower together?"

"Things have been alright," Wakko said. He made a conscious effort to answer all of the squirrel's questions, skim around the ones he didn't like. "I kind of lost touch with a lot of people. I guess my brother's more of the social butterfly when it comes to that stuff. Yakko's been good though, I guess. So is Dot. We're still living in the tower – well, we sort of are. That's another long story. Do you see your aunt a lot?"

"She's sick. She's been sick for awhile. I don't really talk to her much anymore if you want to know the truth. It' s great to see you though. You wouldn't believe it. I thought about you guys so much! I kept thinking I'd get a postcard or something in the mail one day. I even considered sending one but, I mean, I guess I got a little scared. I didn't know why but I just felt scared, you know? I…I felt like you guys wouldn't remember me."

"What's going on here?" Scrooge McDuck cut in as he gestured toward them with his can. "What are the two of you boys? High school sweethearts or _something?"_

"Old costars," Skippy said simply. Wakko couldn't help but notice how he took no notice of the insult whatsoever. "Wakko's a great guy. We used to hang out back in the day."

"And as much as I'd love to put up with this lovey-dovey ripraff," Scrooge said with a glare. "I'm going to go to the bathroom and take another aspirin. Jumping out of a helicopter, for the love of God. It's a miracle I made it all the way here at my age. I'll fight back though, I tell you. Give them a good reason not to mess with a toon that means business like me, that's what I'm going to do…"

"Don't mind about Scrooge," Skippy sighed as the duck walked away with his cane. "He's just really old and paranoid – it's not a good match, you know? I met him a few hours ago. He probably would have clubbed my head in with that cane if I didn't start crying right there on the spot and begging him for mercy. He probably carried me on his leg for three blocks before he shook me off and told me to come with him." He paused for a second. "I'm not sure why he even bothers dragging me around though. I'm kind of dead weight if you want to know the truth…"

"You're not dead weight," Wakko said reassuringly. He felt the sudden need to change the subject. "What was that show was he on again? _DuckTales_?"

"I think so," Skippy said gloomily. "We haven't really talked if you want to know the truth. He kind of just grunts and mumbles to himself. When we were out walking before, he'd keep telling me to stay back while he walked out and paced around with that mallet. I think he kept thinking someone was following us – he did it four times. Once out by the street with all the theatres, again by the apartments, then by the forest, and then again before we holed up in here. He's starting to give me the creeps – this whole place gives me the creeps." He paused for a moment. "Why do you think they're doing this to us?"

"No idea," Wakko said. He had no urge to continue on this topic either, mainly for the fact that it terrified him. "How long have you guys been holed up in here?"

"Not that long. We were walking down the road when you walked out of the alleyway right in front of us. Scrooge freaked out and clobbered you on the head faster than you can say, "slapstick." The next thing I know he throws a sack over your head before I can even get a look at our face and starts dragging you with us." He paused again uneasily, almost in deep though. Wakko suddenly realized that there was nothing worse than seeing an already timid person terrified. "There was no point in putting a sack on you. That's what really scares me. He's doing these things and he doesn't even really know why.

"Sounds like someone else I know," Wakko said softly. He decided to work up the courage to see if his attempt to get the topic off the game and lighten the mood would work on Skippy. "Well, um, anyway, it's great to see a familiar face out here.

Skippy grinned. "Same."

"I'm sorry I didn't write to you," Wakko went on. "I'm really bad at keeping in touch with people. I guess that's my brother's field. If you tell me your name at a party or something I'll probably forget it by midnight. I mean, it's not that I party a lot or anything. I really don't go out a lot if you want to know the truth…"

"Hey. I like quiet people. They're usually nicer to me. Anyway, you should see the stuff that we're doing here. It's going to be –

Wakko stared. "Stuff?"

"Man, I forgot! We haven't even told you anything yet! You think I'm just following this old nut around for no reason? You'd better follow me!"

The two of them stood up and walked out into the kitchen into an even more dilapidated living room full of moldy couches and graffiti of gang insignias covering the wall. There were two more holes in the floor now and Wakko wondered now if the people who had lived in these apartments had just liked keeping in close touch with each other. The whole place had the uneasy feeling of a bad guy's hideout in a movie. Walking down the hallway toward what looked oddly enough like a dead end, they passed Scrooge McDuck standing in the bathroom muttering to himself and dabbing his old face with cold water. As they passed by, he greeted them with Wakko was almost shocked to see was a genuine smile:

"Showing him what's going on, sonny?"

Skippy smiled. "You bet I am!"

When they reached the end of the hallway, Skippy toon stretched his hand up to grab a long cord dangling down. What appeared to be an attic staircase began to fold out – nearly gouging out Scrooge's eye in the process and getting five minutes of complaints – as Wakko helped the squirrel steady it on the ground. When they were done setting it up, they proceeded to walk up with the rickety feeling that the whole thing was going to collapse any minute. Rather than open up to an attic full of junk like Wakko expected, the stairs surprisingly led to a door in an incredibly small room – a door that opened up when Skippy turned the doorknob into the roof of the apartment complex. They were suddenly seven stories above the town of Guardino Heights itself, standing right at the foot of one of the towering billboards of gorgeous women that littered the skyline. In the distance they could see the expensive homes that rose up on the hill on the eastern side of town, almost new-looking like they'd attempted to build a housing development before the town had been booked as a national landmark. As the three toons walked out on the roof, Wakko couldn't help but feel oddly enough like he'd just been given the keys to the top of the world.

"Guess it's not as good as the view your tower's got, huh?" Skippy said with a laugh.

"You know as bad things are out here…" Wakko began. "This is actually pretty cool."

They walked around the pillars holding up the enormous billboard to see something that would have sent the eight-year old in Wakko over the moon. Stacked in an enormous pile in a haphazard mess was a large quantity of toon explosives, ranging from sticks of dynamites packaged in boxes to gigantic old-fashioned bombs that looked like massive black bowling balls. Towering up the massive mess were bear traps, grenades, and a handful of other unpleasant cartoon things that Wakko had only dreamed of seeing. The only thing missing was a mallet sitting like a cherry on top.

"What's going on up here?" Wakko asked in awe.

Skippy looked confused for a second. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you guys have a subscription to Acme or something? I haven't seen this much stuff that blows up in my life. You probably have more stuff here than they used in every single Looney Tunes cartoon put together."

"Scrooge pulled it all out of hammerspace," Skippy whispered out of the duck's earshot. "I've never seen anyone do it that fast. The guy's a natural. He knows exactly what he's doing."

Wakko suddenly felt nervous. "Wait, what exactly are you guys planning on doing-

"Come on. We'll show you."

The two of them walked over to the side of the building, apprehensively staying away from the seven-story fall that awaited them if they walked too close to the edge. They stared out across the skyscape of buildings that rose up into the forest hill in the distance, sitting under the open sky like a picturesque image for an artist. Despite the circumstances, Wakko couldn't help but feel awed by the whole thing – it was no wonder they'd labeled the neighborhood a national landmark.

"Well, take a look, Wakko," Skippy said simply. "That's Guardino Heights."

"It's actually kind of pretty," Wakko said.

"It's a dump," Scrooge cut in.

The two toons turned to see the duck stepping toward them with his cane, scowling from ear-to-ear but harboring a pessimistic smile on his face. It was the smile of a cat who'd just caught a mouse.

"A dump," Scrooge said fiercely. He punctuated the remark by spitting down on the roof. "Nothing but a dump that's decided to be center stage for the holocaust of the new millennium. Take a look at the sky out there! Take a look a that big open sky! How does it make you feel?"

"Unimportant sort of," Wakko said. He wasn't sure how to explain it.

"That's funny," Scrooge said without a smile at all. "Cracks me up if you want to know the truth. You're only saying that because you're young. You want to know how they make me feel? They make me feel angry. They make me feel angry that I'm looking at one of the last few times I'm ever really going to see stars – the last time this old man here is ever going to get a chance to do much of anything. In four days, there's not going to be any sunset. No sunrise, no dusk, no nothing. There's just going to be crawling on the ground and waiting for the end. How does that make you feel?"

"I'm not really sure what to sa-

"Well, I'll tell you how it makes me feel then," Scrooge ranted on. "It makes me feel furious. It makes me feel bent on doing something worthwhile to liberate us out of this rat maze mess before it's too late. How many times have you watched people just be stepped over because they didn't act quick enough? How many times have you watched good people lose for no reason? Not just toons, but people – everyone in this ringbat world that we live in? How many times have you watched people climb over each other to survive?"

"I guess a lot," Wakko said uneasily.

"That's why we're going to catch them all by surprise," Scrooge said with a venomous grin. It was the same menacing grin that Wakko had seen on those finance magazines that the duck's face was always plastered on – it was a grin that meant business. "We're going to rope them with a lasso and pull them in tight. We're going to get those guys while they're still getting their feet wet. I've lived for a while, boy. I know how to do these things and I know how to do them right. We're going to get them while they're down – we're going to be the revolutionaries here! The heroes!"

"The heroes," Skippy said with a nervous laugh.

Wakko turned to Skippy and suddenly realized how apprehensive he was about the whole mess. He was just along for the ride, thankful that somebody had been willing to let him tag along with him. He turned back to see Scrooge standing on the edge of the roof, almost dangerously close to the edge, staring out at the buildings with his eyes nearly gleaming with radiance.

"Picture it all burning," Scrooge said wistfully. "Picture it all just falling down."

"What exactly are you guys planning on doing?" Wakko asked sharply. "I mean, it's not like you can smack those soldiers in the head with a baseball bat and call it a day. The most that dynamite you have there is going to do to a human is give them a bad crewcut."

"Well obviously not," Scrooge said as he turned to wave his cane dismissively. "Stupid boy. Toon powers don't work on humans – everyone knows that. Still, that doesn't mean anything. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. That's what my great-grandfather used to say before he had a stroke three years ago. That's what my father said before he made me into the man I am today."

"I forgot to mention that he's kind of crazy," Skippy whispered to Wakko.

"Faboo," Wakko mumbled wearily.

"I want to know you're in on this," Scrooge said after he turned away from staring out over the roof again. "I want to know…say, what's your name again?

"Wakko Warner."

"Stupid name. But alright then Wakko Warner, I want you to give me a pact here that you're going to be in on what we're doing. I don't want you to give me any of that anti-anarchy stuff or any of that jazz. We're going to tear this place apart and it's only going to help if we have three diligent minds behind it. I say three because one and two aren't good. It's like they say in that old whiny protest song. When you have one person making a stand, everyone thinks they're off their rocker. When you have two, well, they'll think they're nuts for each other and won't listen to them either, will they? But if you get three, you have a revolution – you have something going on! You know what I mean?"

"I guess three's the charm," Wakko said quietly. He was thinking deeply again and not really listening to the meat of what the duck was saying.

"Damn right it is," Scrooge growled. "Damn right. You have some brains on you after all. So what do you say?"

Wakko sighed and looked out across the skyscape again, feeling like he was about to sign a pact with blood. He looked over at Skippy who nodded vigorously but worriedly, showing that he clearly had no idea what was really going on. He glanced out into the streets with growing uneasiness, wondering at every growing second where Yakko and Dot were. While part of him wanted to rush out into the street and tear everything apart – wait for one of his outbursts to happen so they could all level Guardino Heights to the core – part of him felt an odd sense of kinship. Thinking back to everything that Yakko had said – everything he'd said but hadn't really had the courage to do – Wakko began to realize how badly he wanted to go home.

"So you're saying you're going to get us home?" Wakko asked.

"I'm not speaking French here," Scrooge said with a smirk.

"And you're going to make everything go back to the way it was?'

"We can arrange that."

"I guess I'm in," Wakko said finally. He felt powerful on the rooftop with his words hanging heavily in the air.

"You better be, inkblot!" Scrooge said as he thumped him on the back with his cane. "Because it's going to be all uphill from here!"

The three of them stood up on the rooftop for roughly fifteen more minutes, looking out at the skyline and resigned to their own thoughts. Then they went back inside.

The first day of the game was well underway.

* * *

**A/N: I'd like to give a high five to anyone who remembers Angry Beavers, perhaps the most underrated cartoon of the 90's with jokes that I always thought were kind of similar to Animaniacs in a way. **

**Again, thanks a bunch for the reviews guys! They're what make creating this story even more fun and I'm really glad you're enjoying it so far! Also (just to address something that my friend pointed out when I showed him an early preview of this chapter) I hope all the sudden introductions of all these seemingly random characters isn't overwhelming or anything. Just keep in mind that not everyone is necessarily going to be important, which I hope will make itself more clear after a few more chapters when we establish who's who. A lot of characters are going to be important, sure (you can probably figure out who by now since I'm terribly obvious when it comes to picking favorites), some are going to be sort of in the background, and some, well, aren't going to be important all. Look at what happened to Woody...**

**But seriously, thanks for your kind words. They're what make writing this awesome.**


	8. Chapter 8

**August Of '98**

* * *

_The reason that the carnival had been postponed – as the fliers advertising it for a week had explained suitably enough– was for the fact that nobody had really known for sure when the executives were going to cancel the show. When it had spread through word of mouth on Monday morning however, the food kiosks had been set up by noon, the rides by suppertime, and the gates officially opened at a little past seven. The pinnacle of excitement for the evening had been reached with the fireworks display that had shone across the light, and now with a stream of powdered light left over in the sky – illuminating the massive white banner in the midway proclaiming, "Congratulations Yakko, Wakko, and Dot!" – the nights' festivities were gradually drawing to a close. Most of the guests idly mulling about and debating whether to squeeze in a few final rides before closing time. The aroma smelled mightily of midway sawdust and oil exhaust from carnival rides and looking up at the starry sky, it was hard to imagine that everyone outside the lot was going on with their lackluster lives while something extravagant was happening_

_"It's so pretty," Shirley McLoon said to Yakko in an awed voice from beside him. "All the lights, I mean! It's just all so pretty! It's like, I don't know, being on Broadway or something! I wanted to be an actress once, y'know. I still want to be an actress. Did I ever tell you that?"_

_The two of them were walking hand in hand through the crowd with the clamor of conversation and carnival rides echoing around them. Shirley seemed to be making a conscious effort to walk directly in the path of everyone else, getting them to clear out of the way and showcasing Yakko on her arm like he was a piece of cheap jewelry for the rest of the world to see. If Yakko had been any older he might have been disturbed by this – maybe even a little mystified that he'd been able to put up with dating Shirley for two weeks now – but he wasn't. He was sixteen years old and living blissfully unaware of any world that existed outside the carnival._

_"Are you listening to me? I want to be an actress. Did I ever tell you -"_

_"It might have slipped a few times," Yakko said shortly._

_"I'm going to be famous," Shirley rambled on. "There's going to be billboards with my face on them up and down the coast. That's what my mom always told me when I was little! Then people are going to be walking down the street and they'll look up and say, "Who's up there?" Shirley McLoon, that's who! It's going to be great – like, really, really great, you know what I mean?" She paused and looked over at him dreamily. "So, like, what are you going to be once we get married?_

_"Probably brain dead," Yakko replied without looking at her._

_"Huh?"_

_"I figured I'd just kind of see what happens," Yakko said simply. One of the perks about talking to her was that a lot of things went over her head. "I mean, I'll wait and see if Gary Coleman syndrome kicks in for me. I might be able to ride the coattails of being a child star for as long as I can. If that doesn't work out, well, I figured I'd try out the comedy circuit for a little bit._

_"That's nice," Shirley said with a smile. "Hey, do you want to go on the Ferris wheel again?"_

_She smiled at him but it was a superficial smile that showed clearly that she hadn't been listening. The two of them diverged into silence as they walked onward. The neon lights of food kiosks were flickering off now as the carnival slowly drew to a close with the shrieking of patrons enjoying their last rides echoing out like faint wailing into the parking lot. The night's aroma had the familiar odor of bacchanal nightlife - midway dust, hot dogs, and leaking oil – and looking around all of it now, Yakko couldn't help but feel oddly detached from the situation, almost wondering how it had all come to be._

_"Do you think I'm getting fat?" Shirley asked suddenly._

_"I don't know," Yakko said simply without looking at her. "Jump and see if an earthquake happens."_

_"I'm serious. All the other girls were talking earlier at dance rehearsal for that new commercial we're shooting. They were measuring all of us up one-by-one and I gained, like, five pounds in the last month. How's that possible?_

_"Are you going to finish that funnel cake?" Yakko asked looking down at the food in her other hand. He couldn't hide the fact that he was smiling._

_"Yeah probably," Shirley sighed as she winced at the greasy paper plate. "It's kind of dry though. Anyway, it's like, if the world was different and saw fat as, like, beautiful or something I'd start bulking up in a heartbeat. But they don't. Hollywood won't even look at you if you're old or fat. I can't really avoid the first one, so if God's my witness, well, I better find a way of dodging the second. I don't want to be on the sidelines playing comic relief. I really don't want to play the fat chick._

_"Hey, I'm sure Rosie O'Donnell has a great personality."_

_"You know, this funnel cake is actually pretty bad," Shirley said with a wince. "You want to go and throw it out and get me some cotton candy?"_

_"Your wish is my command," Yakko sighed as he took it from her._

_"Thanks," Shirley said with a smile. She paused for a moment and then giggled a little. "I…I really like you, Yakko."_

_He walked away from her without a second thought. In the distance, over the concession stands, he could heard the industrial clanking of a roller coaster being dragged up a hill, punctuated by the screams of riders as it dove into its first drop. He passed an odd array of midway games where the sound of balls clattering on milk bottles seemed to echo up to the draped ceiling of booths where prize-worthy stuffed animals hung in bundles, dangling in front of passerby like colorful, overripe fruit. The studio had seemed to have taken it as an opportunity to promote their entertainment industry and – glancing at the dangling prizes – Yakko couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved by the dangling, smiling black-and-white stuffed animal in his likeness. He smiled at the looks he was getting as he walked though, doing his best to return the waves without the whole thing seeming awkward. He passed underneath the enormous banner tethered between the two telephone poles – the one that proclaimed, "Congratulations Yakko, Wakko, and Dot!" – and suddenly ended up feeling like the whole thing was a dream more than ever; he couldn't even tell if it was a good one or not._

_"Hey, what can I getcha?" Fifi LeFume asked hurriedly as he walked up to the concession stand._

_She, like most of the teenage toons on the lot, had taken it into her liberty to help run the various kiosks throughout the night. It was unpaid volunteer work but, with toons that had been cancelled left to loiter around the lot until they turned eighteen, it gave them something worthwhile to do with their time – something productive. There'd always been a high turnout of teenage toons who never made it to being ceremonially asked to leave at eighteen, namely for issues of drug abuse or stories concerning misuse of their powers. It seemed to Yakko like the moment of cancellation was something that cleared free the lens of opportunity for child star toons; they suddenly had their whole careers ahead of them and were inclined to do whatever they felt like doing. Most of his friends had handled the responsibility well enough – others he'd known over the years hadn't been as lucky. It was an uneasy situation to think about – one he ended up dwelling on a lot – but considering now was one of the most unholy nights to consider the idea, he pushed it to the back of his mind._

_Fifi busily grabbed a sheet of paper and began to roll it before Yakko could even reply, sticking out her tongue and shaping it into a perfect cotton candy stick. Craning over her shoulder, Yakko couldn't help but cringe a little at the blackened burgers that Fifi had practically cremated on the greasy grill. It wasn't a surprise that cotton candy was her top seller for the evening; it seemed like the only thing she hadn't learned how to ruin yet._

_"Consider it on the house," Fifi replied as she began to churn the stick around in the sugary vat. She looked like she'd been reasonably worn out by the night but still made an effort to smile. "I'm not going to charge the man of the hour – well, one of the men of the hour anyway. Where's that brother of yours at?"_

_"I'm not sure. Probably with Dot and her friends. Anyway, it's really no big deal, Fifi. I'm not going to turn into a penny pincher overnight just because we have a six-year show under our belt now. The whole Hollywood ego hasn't blossomed on me yet. It's just cotton candy. I'll pay just like anyone else. I mean, it's only fair when you really think abou-_

_"Keep your money," Fifi said harshly as she handed him the sugary confection. "Think of it like this. Everything we're raising tonight goes straight to the studio's funds. All that money's going to end up doing is financing another multi-million dollar blockbuster and God forbid you do something useful like – I don't know - donate it to a charity! Call me crazy but I'm still recovering from Batman and Robin."_

_The two of them muttered goodbyes as Yakko left the line with the stick of cotton candy and began to weave back through the crowd. He leaned on his tiptoes to scan the faces apphrensively for Shirley, slowly coming to the realization that he wasn't even sure why he wanted to return to her. It was only after a minute of walking, however, that someone else shouldered their way through the crowd and stepped in front of him._

_"It's getting hot out here," Dot Warner said bouncily. "How's dating the lowest IQ in southern California treatin' ya?"_

_Her face was sweaty from running around all night with her friends and a large stuffed alligator was clutched in her gloved hands; it looked like the kind of thing that she'd egged one of her little boyfriends into winning for her. Exactly how many guy friends Dot had developed in the passing months was unbeknownst to Yakko, seeing how most of the time she occupied herself to her room after dinner and chatted on the phone until midnight without so much as a glance spared to either of her brothers. He was aware that there were definitely boys though, and as an older sibling, Yakko had watched them come and go in the frightening way a mother bluebird must have watched her offspring take flight for the first time. In every direction Dot went, there seemed to be absolutely nothing but boys; boys chatting with her quietly after school by the lot's baseball diamond; boys carrying books for Dot in the hallway where she pretended not to see her brother as he walked by; even boys after school some days who would ring the tower's doorbell and eye Yakko with a look that made it clear they hadn't planned for Dot's older brother to answer the door. It was an odd moment to see Dot separate from her friends, but considering the prospect of who he was walking back to with the cotton candy, Yakko took her abrupt appearance in stride._

_"I'm just glad to get away from her," Yakko sighed. "Seriously, listening to her talk is like getting a lobotomy."_

_"I don't know why you bother," Dot said shaking her head. "You could do a lot better than her. Anyway, my friends are all going to go on the Devil Drop before it shuts down for the night. Do you want to come?"_

_"I think I've had enough. My head never really got off the Tilt-O-Whirl if you want to know the truth." He paused for a moment. "Hey, wasn't Wakko with you guys awhile ago?_

_"No," Dot said blankly. "I thought he was with you? Anyway though, if that cotton candy's there for the loon It'd make my night if you manned up a little bit and dropped a laxative or two in it."_

_Yakko grinned. "Thanks for the input."_

_The two of them exchanged goodbyes and parted ways, one returning to what the night very well should have been and the other resigning himself back to a situation that was becoming more awkward by the moment. Yakko found himself weaving in and out of the crowd, debating whether or not Shirley would have noticed if he snuck a piece of cotton candy. He considered the way that Dot and her friends were scampering around in the night now, moving with no other thought than that they were young and living in the moment._

_He passed suddenly underneath another, "Congratulations Yakko, Wakko, and Dot!" banner – a banner that was starting to seem more like a eulogy than a proclamation; a quaint reminder that things had changed somehow. In what had seemed like a metamorphosis overnight, there was suddenly going to be no tying Dot's shoes for her before school; no wiping the blood and tears off her face when school was over after hearing about the boy she'd picked a fight with. It was almost like a mutual understanding had been reached- not just reached, but forgotten at the same time. Looking up at the banner as he passed, Yakko could almost feel a haunting kind of subtlety in it: "Congratulations to Yakko Warner for doing everything right! Just don't screw up now!"_

_"But it's not supposed to be like that," he thought dully. "Nobody else thinks like that so why should you? You're supposed to be having fun tonight – it's your night! Why are you always such a killjoy?"_

_"Change for change! Come one, come all!"_

_Yakko's thoughts were cut off by a familiarly unpleasant voice that cut through the air. Knowing who it was before he even saw, Yakko turned with a sigh to see Plucky Duck sitting behind a table and grinning from ear to ear with a billed mouth._

_His hands were folded in what looked like a shot worthy of a business magazine and his eyes were dashing between the faces of passerby like a sniper, ready to reel in the first sucker he could get. He was chaperoned by another toon that Yakko recognized vaguely from school named Concord Condor – someone who was just as gullible as he was stupid. There was a tin can of coins sitting between the boys, highlighted by a crooked dollar sign that had likely been drawn by Plucky himself._

_Yakko watched with a cold kind of spite as Plucky gripped the can and shook it mightily in the air like he was reeling in his catch of the day._

_"Gentle passerby!" Plucky cried. "Mend the souls of the needy by giving only a little of what you already have! We're entering the holidays and thousands of families are plagued by these terrible inconveniences! Want to help? Toss in a quarter and feel goodness radiate from you like a fountain!"_

_"Nice speech, Plucky," Yakko said as he walked up." Did you actually look up all the big words or just pull them off TV?"_

_Plucky eyed him with a scowl and rested the can of coins on the counter with a trembling hand. Although Yakko had never known exactly what had sparked the hatred between the two of them, it was something that had surged on for years to the point where it didn't even matter how it started – all that mattered was that it wasn't going to end until one of them got what was coming to them._

_"For your information Warner," Plucky said coldly. "I happen to a more articulate speaker than you'll ever dream. Now if you'll excuse me, I have needy children to help. Miracles don't happen all by themselves you know." He raised the can into the air again and shook it. "Change for change, change for change!"_

_"Does anybody know you're doing this?" Yakko asked._

_"It might have slipped my mind to tell them," Plucky said simply. "What's it to you anyway?"_

_"Yeah," Concord repeated stupidly. "What's it to you anyway?_

_"Nothing," Yakko said simply. "It's just that, well, my tongue's been known to slip when I see things. And for all we know, it might slip and bring this up to somebody important."_

_Plucky frowned. "You don't have the guts, inkblot."_

_"That's for me to know and you to find out. How are the two of you splitting the profits, Concord? Thirty-seventy? Twenty-eighty? Course when you're working with someone like Plucky I'd be surprised if he let you over the ten-percent mark. What's he giving you out of this? A seat on the throne when he takes over the world? Pocket change? A stick of bubble gum?"_

_"Don't talk to him, Concord," Plucky snapped. "He's just being ungenerous. Yakko here doesn't understand that with the holiday season coming up, well, some families are in dire need of our help; families with young children succumbing to the horrors of Hodgkin's Disea-"_

_"Plucky, I'll give you ten bucks on the spot right now if you can even tell me what Hodgkin's Disease is._

_"Just get lost," Plucky said dismissively as he reached for the can again. "Besides, you have no right to be prejudiced against me like this. Sure, I've done cons like this before. Sure, I've done some bad things but maybe I decided to get up today and turn over a new leaf. Maybe I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart and-_

_"Cons like this?" Yakko asked with a smirk._

_The smirk on Plucky's face dropped so fast Yakko could have sworn he'd just gotten news he was being arrested on the spot. Scowling and glancing worriedly from side to side for a moment, Plucky finally shook his head dismissively and held up the can again to shake it._

_"Just get out of here," Plucky sighed. "The way I see it, your mouth's what's going to put you six feet under one day. Enjoy this little celebration of yours, Warner. The way I see it it's going to be your last – everyone knows the child star curse! What's going to happen first? Your sister getting pregnant or your brother ending up in rehab? And that's only if they're able to live to twenty with a screwball like you taking care of them."_

_"Well, here then! A penny for your thoughts!"_

_Yakko did his best not to show that his temper was flaring. Quickly considering his choices, he smiled triumphantly and went with the juvenile approach. In one swift motion, Yakko reached behind his back and retrieved something so fast that it took a moment for him to even see it clearly. There was no doubting when Plucky's eyes enlarged however, that Yakko was now clutching a slimy, red lobster snapping irritably in the air around his gloved hands. He discarded it wordlessly onto the table, letting it flop obscenely into the can and causing change to spill out everywhere. He turned to walk away quickly before anyone noticed, whistling bouncily and swinging his arms idly at his side._

_"You'll pay for this, Warner!" Plucky's voice screamed from behind him. There was another shriek soon after that seemed to signify the lobster clamping onto him. "I swear, I'll get you for this! Concord, get this thing off my head!'_

_Acting nonchalant to sway off any attention, Yakko quickly hid himself in the midst of the crowd. With the carnival now reaching its end, most of the patrons were caught in a slow moving river out of the parking lot. Between legs and heads, Yakko somehow caught a glimpse of a familiar face standing outside one of the restrooms like she was waiting for something. Dressed nicely and nursing a strawberry milkshake that she was sipping gingerly, Babs Bunny was standing back coolly and watching the guests file out of the night's festivities._

_"Hey, do you know where Shirley went?" Yakko asked as he walked up to her._

_"She said you abandoned her," Babs said simply as she sipped her shake. "Then she went and wandered off with one of those older kids about five minutes ago." She paused and stared at the cotton candy he was still holding in his hands. "I thought you said you hated carnival food?"_

_"Take it if you want," Yakko sighed._

_Babs smirked. "Don't tell me she asked you to get this for her?"_

_"The way I see it, we're both better breathing in some fresh air alone tonight. The girl has the attention span of a lightning bolt. I mean, there are things that she's roped me into buying for her that are just sitting in the corner of her room. You can't really even talk to her about anything without it connecting back to her."_

_"So then why do you date her?" Babs asked._

_"I'm not sure," Yakko said. He thought it over and even laughed a little. "I mean, I'm really not sure. She liked me and I thought she was cute. It just kind of felt like the right thing to do."_

_"Your sixteenth birthday," Babs sighed wistfully as she tossed out her milkshake. "Your sixteenth birthday two weeks ago. I guess it's mating season now, huh? Course, that's not saying much. Who really has time to be a kid anymore, you know? Your show's cancelled, my show's cancelled, and in a couple of years we'll be eighteen. Then they'll get tired of reusing all of us in commercials and kick us off the lot to make room for new talent. We'll all be gone – the gang, I mean. Buster, Fifi, even Shirley if you want to count that bimbo." She paused for a moment before sighing. "Oh, why not? Let's count Shirley. Anyway, one last curtain call and then, well, it's lost in the big city for the lot of us, isn't it?"_

_"Hey come on Babs, don't say that -_

_"You're here because they don't have the heart to kick you guys out of the tower," Babs said with a weary smile. "Those places in the dorms aren't going to stay ours forever. Anyway, it's not like I'm scared or anything. I have places where I can go – people I can fall back on. You just take care of your family and I'll take go and take care of -_

_"Man, that roller coaster over there might as well come with a complimentary barf bag," Buster Bunny called out as he walked out of the bathroom. "Twenty-six times and I'm still up for another one! You want to come, Yakko? You might as well cut the modest crap and live a little! Big shot celebrity and all!"_

_Yakko grinned. "I'll have to write you out of my will for that one."_

_"What was I getting anyway? The staples of that Michelle Pliefer poster you have framed up in your room? Because I know Michelle's going in the coffin with you."_

_Babs frowned. "Why are you guys acting like nutjobs?_

_"We're not acting," Buster said stubbornly._

_"Yeah," Yakko said. "We really are nutjobs. Care to join us, Babs?_

_"I have a commercial to shoot tomorrow," Babs said matter-of-factly. "Then I have a rehearsal in the dance studio tomorrow night, a tour of the lot to give on Tuesday, another commercial on Thursday, and an award ceremony to supervise on Friday night. Sorry to cut the two of you down, but I think I'm going to need my sanity for the week. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get some fresh air."_

_"What a control freak," Buster sighed as she stormed off._

_"Maybe you're just jealous."_

_"Right," Buster laughed. "Jealous of somebody who alphabetizes her socks by brand name. Jealous of someone who doesn't let you touch anything she owns. I'm telling you Yakko, it's like she's living in a glass bubble or something. Sometimes I want to stomp in that spick and span room of hers and go Tasmanian Devil just to knock some life into her. It's like she's living in a museum display or something – no flash photography either."_

_"Yeah," Yakko said with a friendly nudge. "Because you've obviously tried."_

_"I'll stay silent on that one," Buster said with a smile. He paused for a moment. "Love bites, you know that?"_

_"No," Yakko said as he thought of Shirley. "It quacks."_

_"Huh?"_

_"Nothing"_

_"Yeah whatever. Why do you only date bimbos anyway?_

_Yakko stared. "What do you mean?_

_"Oh come on, don't play dumb. I know you're smarter than that. If it's not a girl who can't put two words together without getting a brain hemorrhage, it's….well….a girl that's going to rope you into splurging your money to buy that for you. I don't see how a girl like Shirley can make you nauseous and tingly all over."_

_"Well if that's the case, maybe I'm not in love," Yakko said with a smile. "Maybe I just have smallpox. You want some cotton candy?"_

_"Love, smallpox, same difference," Buster said. "They both make me want to stay in bed all day. I mean, Babs is great and everything - really great! It's just been kind of weird lately. I mean, we're getting older I guess. Things just kind of feel weird all the sudden – sort of like you're waiting for something to happen but you don't know what. But I guess you know all about that, huh? I mean, with you playing the field lately and all?_

_Yakko smiled back at him as best as he could but there was no denying the fact that his friends words had quietly stung. While it wasn't necessarily true that every girl he'd dated in his teenage years had been like Shirley, very few had been stunning intellectuals. Most of them were ditzy toon girls who had parents with good connections, leaving them to prattle on mindlessly about how impeccable their careers were going to be. It wasn't something that Yakko thought about often, but when he did, it was something that made him feel awkwardly uncomfortable. Why exactly did he only date bimbos?_

_"Listen Buster," Yakko sighed finally. "You know I'm not doing this just for the hell of it, right? I mean, you know I don't get up in the morning and think about bagging people like Shirley, right? I mean, the only reason I've been dating so much is because girls like all the attention we've gotten from our show ending. It's just kind of something that happened. I mean, I know a lot of people think I'm a horn dog but –_

_"No, I know where you're going," Buster said with a smile. "You're a horn dog with good taste."_

_Yakko rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Can't argue with that."_

_"And look on the bright side. With the way girls have been lining up to you, maybe you could start giving all the single men around here some advice. Your brother could use some."_

_"The best girl for Wakko would be someone who knows how to turn into a pizza at four-o-clock in the morning. Listen, I'll talk to you later, Buster. I should really try to find what's-her-name before –"_

_And that was when two new voices entered the picture:_

_"Warner?"_

_"Yeah, that's him. The short one…"_

_He'd heard it in a quiet, conspiratorial whisper over his shoulder. Yakko turned just in time to catch the glimpse of two teenage toons hurrying by – an overweight hippo and a raccoon – both of whom he recognized vaguely from around the lot. They seemed enthused about something and quickly hurried off, vanishing behind a woman lecturing her daughter about how she couldn't have cotton candy for dinner. Feeling an oncoming sense of dread, Yakko's eyes shot back to Buster._

_"Did you hear that?" Yakko asked._

_Buster stared. "Hear what?"_

_Abandoning his friend without a second thought, Yakko turned away quickly and shouldered his way through the crowd. He craned his neck and stood on his tiptoes, offering him a slight glimpse of the raccoon and the hippo making their way against the current of the carnival patrons. Quickly hurrying after them and only vaguely aware that some of the carnival goers were offering him praise when they saw him, Yakko shouldered his way past the concession stands just in time to see the raccoon's tail vanish around the corner. Debating whether or not if it would be worth it to sprint now, Yakko sped up to a jog as he turned the corner as well and came face-to-face with a chain-linked fence rusted by age. Sucking in a much needed breath, Yakko sprung up into the air and toon jumped over it, landing safely on the other side. It was then that he started to hear the chanting – crude, devilish chanting almost like some kind of dark ritual was going on. Glancing up from the ground, he bit his lip worriedly at the sight of what looked like at least twenty toons congregated around a circle. He caught sight of the hippo and the raccoon quickly shouldering their way in to get a glimpse of whatever was happening in the middle. Not wanting to waste a second, Yakko decided to confirm his worst fears and follow suit with them; it wasn't easy when he finally saw what was going on either._

_"You think you can squeal on us?" someone in the circle yelled. "You want us to show you how hard you can really squeal?"_

_"I'm sorry!" Wakko Warner screamed. "Just get off of me! Just –_

_Yakko stared awestruck at the sight of his brother being thrown around in the circle like a ragdoll, rebounding each time off a new pair of gloved hands that would push him back into another. There was an echoing chant lost in the circle, but anything any of the toons were saying was being muffled by their neighbors. There was suddenly the sound of the roller coaster making its final drop of the night not far away, and as it took its vertical plunge and brought down a cluster of screams with it, Yakko looked at his brother's silently desperate face and quickly felt his shock fall away to dread; shortly afterward, it fell away to complete fury._

_"Hey," Yakko called out. "What's the big idea here?_

_Whether it was genuine fear of Yakko's voice or a realization of exactly what they were doing, the circle of toons fell deathly silent. One of them quickly seized Wakko and put an end to the ravaging of him, holding him still by his shoulders. Looking around at most of the faces, Yakko couldn't help but notice that most of them were not necessarily from the bad crowd – they were just bystanders who had followed the chaos with unquenched curiosity, waiting to see what the commotion would entail. It somehow made him angrier than anything else. It took a moment of tense silence before one of the toons stepped out – a scaly, green chameleon with a black tongue that Yakko recognized immediately but didn't see as a genuine threat. His name was Ace. Like the majority of toons on the lot now, he was simply an extra in commercials and very occasionally shows; essentially, he was just a shameless face with too much time on his hands that the studio kept around to make the lot look bigger. He was eyeing Yakko now with keen interest, flicking out his tongue in a delicate hiss as he took a step toward him._

_"Hey look, it's the big one!" Ace said with a smirk. "And he brought us a present! Cotton candy! I knew you knew the way to my heart, Yakko!"_

_Almost on command with the chameleon's words, Yakko felt the gentle whish of air of the cotton candy being seized out of his hand. The fat hippo he'd seen earlier had snatched it and swallowed it in what looked honestly like one gulp. Trying not to be fazed by it, Yakko didn't break eye contact with the chameleon._

_"Ace, I wouldn't touch your heart with a ten foot pole. And if you're planning on donating it when you die, I hope they at least disinfect it."_

_"Like I'm going to donate anything," Ace said with a smirk. "That's for the public – that's what Plucky went and told me anyway. And besides, at least my heart would be worth something. You know the child star curse, Yakko. It's all up hill one moment and downhill right when life kicks in. You'll be so broke in a few years they'll be donating your heart in a Tupperware dish. Of course, that's nothing new to you. I mean, I'm sure your fridge is full of the goddamned things. You cook for this kid don't you? I mean, you really cook for him?"_

_"Do you dress up like a maid too?" the raccoon called out._

_"Trust me, Ace," Yakko said stiffly. "I'd dress up like a French Nurse if it meant you got to go a few days without eating."_

_There were quiet scatters of laughter amongst the circle but they were quickly silenced by a sinister glare from Ace. Yakko caught sight of Wakko still caught in the arms of the raccoon on the other side of the circle, glancing up at him with what couldn't have been mistaken for anything else, even with the situation at hand, as a reassuring smile. It was what gave Yakko the confidence that he needed._

_"Yada, yada, my name's Yakko Warner and I talk out of my ass," Ace sighed. "Of course, I guess stuff like that runs in the family, doesn't it? You have a pretty cheeky brother here. He almost screwed up our business proposal for us."_

_That was when Wakko laughed bitterly. It was a quiet sound, an almost unmistakable one, but Yakko definitely noticed it. Ace apparently noticed it too. He hissed out his dark tongue threatingly again and spun around to face the middle Warner sibling on the other side of the circle; the sound of his tongue reminded Yakko eerily of a rattlesnake._

_Ace glared. "What? Something funny?"_

_"Well, I -_

_"I just beat you up, pipsqueak!" Ace roared. "You're supposed to be scared! You're not supposed to be laughing! You're –_

_Ace's words were cut off abruptly by a blunt blur that nailed him in the head. There were gasps throughout the circle as he faltered for a moment and nearly fell to the ground. He recovered quickly however, cringing as he straightened himself up, massaging his scaly green scalp. Staring down at the ground, Yakko caught sight of something stained with drops of red and bathed in moonlight - a decently sized rock._

_"Does he look scared, you little greaseball?" Dot Warner screamed._

_Yakko glanced across the circle to see that his sister has shouldered her way through the crowd. All the jovial cheer of spending the night with her friends had vanished. A new side of her had surfaced now – a side that Yakko saw more than once a day and still hadn't grown accustomed to – and she seemed more than a little inclined to show it. Even while still holding her stuffed alligator and standing at a much shorter height than anyone else in the circle, Dot seemed to have a sense of energy and vigor in her that couldn't be surpassed; she wasn't scared whatsoever. Yakko wondered if he'd be more like her if he never considered the consequences._

_Ace glared. "I'm not going to hit a girl…"_

_"I'm a woman," Dot said stubbornly. "You're the girl here if you're enough of a coward to pick on someone two heads smaller than you! Now go on and tell me why you and these creeps jumped my brother. Or do you want a bruise somewhere else too? I can pull out something heavier than a rock next time, you know!"_

_"We don't need to give him a concussion, Dot," Yakko said._

_"Come on, I just wanted to scare him," Dot said harshly. She turned around angrily to face the crowd. "And what are you people still doing here? This is a carnival, not a circus! Get out of here! Show's over!"_

_There was quiet murmuring within the circle but there seemed to be a growing hesitance on whether to leave or not. Most of the toons seemed to be facilitating between backing up Ace and considering the risks of challenging how far Dot's anger was willing to stretch._

_With a resigned sigh after a moment that Yakko knew meant business, Dot glared around the circle before bellowing a toon shriek that almost burst his eardrums:_

_"Get out of here!'_

_With the sound of windows shattering all throughout the lot, some of the toons were even knocked to their feet as they quickly scampered away. Yakko watched triumphantly as the raccoon quickly abandoned Wakko and shoved him away, dashing off into the night like his life depended on it. Some of them hopped over the fence; others even burrowed rabbit holes underground with the sound of a jackhammer whirring before they were out of sight. It was only twenty seconds later that the night was silent with the three Warners and Ace standing in a circle of what had just been over twenty people. The chameleon in particular, who had apparently gotten the worst of the blow from Dot's specialty, was sprawled out in the ground and looking like he was on the verge of a panic attack._

_"Look," Ace said worriedly now. "I don't want any trouble…."_

_"What'd he do to you, Wak?" Yakko asked._

_"It happened over at that stand Plucky has set up," Wakko said quietly. "I mean, the place he's conning people at. I thought it was pretty obvious what he was doing, and well, I didn't think it was right. So I threatened to go tell one of the execs or something and he got mad and told me to watch it – seemed kind of like he was planning something. Then I walked over to the snack bar to get another hot dog and –"_

_"That's when they jumped you?"_

_"Yeah, that's when we did it," Ace sighed. "Christ, stop playing this like a Sherlock Holmes story. We beat the kid up and that's it. There's not another layer to it."_

_Yakko ignored him "So you're saying Plucky sent these people after you, Wakko?_

_"Yeah, I guess that's one interpretation…"_

_"Plucky, the one who can't talk without a lisp? That Plucky?"_

_Wakko replied with a silent nod. Glancing between the chameleon on the ground and his brother, Yakko shook his head bitterly and started to walk away._

_"Alright that's it…"_

_"Where are you going?" Dot asked in surprise as she started to follow him._

_"To give Ebenezer Scrooge over there a piece of my mind," Yakko said. "Enjoy the carnival, Ace!"_

_Leaving the chameleon in a quivering heap on the ground, Yakko quickly marched off back toward the carnival with his siblings following him apprehensively close behind. They walked directly through the chain-linked fence this time – it seemed like one of the toons who had fled had taken the liberty to carve his way through it with a handsaw that was still lying uselessly on the ground. Now that the carnival was otherwise deserted, the three walked down a long strip of midway rides shutting off their neon lights, bathing the parking lot gradually in darkness. Despite the carnival reaching its end however, Plucky had seemed to have taken little hesitation in slowing down his charity fund. He was still seated just as he'd been when they reached him, gesturing his cup out to the handful of patrons that still hadn't left yet—it seemed to Yakko like he was determined to milk the night for all it was worth. Concord was still sitting at his side, smiling as uselessly and idiotically as he always was._

_"Change for change!" Plucky called out. "Change for change!" He caught sight of them as they walked up. "Hey look, it's the three stooges!"_

_"Take a picture," Yakko said darkly. "It'll last longer."_

_"Right, right," Plucky said dismissively. "Well, if you Warners aren't going to contribute to my little charity fund here I'd recommend you skeddadle and leave me alone. Hey, nice facelift by the way, Wakko. Whoever bruised you up really gave you an improvement."_

_"Plucky, I've seen lepers that look in better shape than you do," Dot sighed. "Now, tell us the truth right now. Did you sic your stupid goons on my brother?"_

_"I don't know, sweetheart," Plucky said with a grin. "I can't say for sure. It's just that, well, when certain people have the lack of courtesy to muck around in things that they shouldn't, the public gets a little antsy. I didn't send them out on your brother, but if something happened, well, more power to me then! That's what he gets for messing with charity. And with two more generous souls in the bucket, I'll have exactly fifty-two dollars and twenty four cents. You want to do the math yourself, Warner?"_

_"Maybe I should, Plucky," Yakko said. "It might stop Flamiel from keeping you in summer school again."_

_Plucky stared. "What do you mean?"_

_"You're only taking quarters. You can't get fifty-two dollars and twenty four cents with quarters."_

_"Well, make that twenty-five cents then," Plucky sighed. "But either way, business is business. Now if you excuse me I –_

_Plucky seemed to have been so engaged in arguing with them that he'd accidentally swatted his hand against his charity can. He steadied it quickly before it fell, but it was just enough for Yakko to see that there was something eerily wrong with; something strange about the way the shadows reflected on the interior of it; something that he should have noticed from the very beginning. Squinting inquisitively at it, Yakko quickly reached down and snatched the can before Plucky was able to do anything._

_Dot stared blankly. "Yakko, what are you doing?_

_"Wait a second, Dot," Yakko said. "I think I'm on to something here!"_

_"Put that thing down," Plucky hissed. "I should have you all arrested for meddling with an innocent charity organiza-_

_"Oh, shut up!" Dot snapped_

_"What is it?" one of the security guards asked. He'd apparently heard the commotion coming from the table. "What's going on here? Are you kids causing trouble?'_

_"It's nothing!" Plucky said briskly. He wasn't able to hide the hint of worry in his voice. "Nothing at all! And, um, I'd really appreciate it if you could contribute to the Plucky Duck Change For Change Hodgkin's Disease Charity Fund. We send the money to –_

_The duck's words were cut off when Yakko started to scrutinize the can even closer. With his siblings watching, Yakko took in a deep breath and stuck his head into the can; it would have been an utterly impossible feat for a human, but it was one of the most useful tricks that he knew. Almost immediately as his head reformed like clay to fit inside, Yakko cringed at the coppery smell of money inside. It was then that he noticed two things – not only did no sound from the outside echo within the can, but there seemed to be an unusually large amount of room inside it. Putting the pieces together by the second, Yakko squinted in the darkness and stared in bemusement at a small slit of light like the small cranny of a door slightly open. It was a miniscule glimpse, and almost unnoticeable one, but there was no denying that Yakko was looking directly into Plucky's room._

_"What is it?" Wakko asked as Yakko pulled his head out with a plopping sound. "What's wrong with it?"_

_"It's a portal," Yakko concluded. "He rigged the bottom of the bucket with a toon portal to open up right into the inside of a safe in his room. All that charity money's going right to him."_

_"Plucky, is this true?" the security guard barked._

_"He's lying!" Plucky pleaded desperately. "I was just putting it in the safe to save it for later – for the orphans! For the sick kids or the poor people or whoever the hell the money's going to! I'm innocent! He's just trying to put the blame on me! He's –_

_"I think Ruegger's going to have a lot to say about this," the guard said simply._

_"The exec? You're not going to take me to him! He'll boot me right out of here! He'll kick me out into the street! He'll –_

_But words seemed to fail Plucky as the cop seized him by the arm and pulled him out of his chair, carrying him off with Concord in the other arm. Both of the boys protested feebly but neither seemed to have the enthusiasm to use their powers against the officer; they seemed to have the common sense that they didn't need to get into any more trouble now._

_"Get off of me!" Plucky cried. "Get your dirty hands off of me!"_

_"Tell us how it works out for the orphans, Plucky!" Dot called out._

_"Shut up you little nitwit!" Plucky cried. "This isn't over yet Warner, you hear me? This isn't over yet! This isn't anywhere near over yet!_

_"Music to my ears," Dot sighed as the duck's cries slowly fell to silence._

_"The guy crossed the line," Yakko sighed. "I mean, he's done stuff like this before but this is taking it to far. You've got to wonder how he dreams this stuff up."_

_It was then a painfully familiar voice cut through the air:_

_"There you are!" Shirley McLoon shrieked as she walked up to them. "Where do you think you've been, mister? What, does getting a carnival for yourself make it so you can abandon a girl on the first date? Who the hell do you think you are anyway? And where's my cotton candy?"_

_"It was eaten by a hippo," Yakko said simply._

_"Don't give me any of that stupid crap! I'm tired of people standing me up – of people like you standing me up! I don't need that! I don't deserve that from a….a…what are you guys supposed to be anyway? Pandas?"_

_"Hey, pandas!" Yakko cried. "That's a new one, guys! Be sure to write it down."_

_"Shut up!" Shirley shot back. "I don't need this! Go back to cooking like a girl every night for these two while everyone else is out having fun! Go back to think you're some hotshot when you wouldn't last a day outside this lot! You don't know how to treat a girl right, Yakko Warner – not at all! Do you think I get with guys all the time because I'm pretty? No - it's because I'm smart! Talented! I'm leaving lot with an achievement award for acting under my belt!_

_"That's not the only thing under that belt that you're carrying out of here," Wakko said simply._

_"Shut up, you weird little brat!" Shirley screamed. "I'm leaving now! And if I never speak to you again, it's because I hate you!"_

_"I thought it was because you were smart?" Yakko said with a grin._

_Shirley spit at his feet as she turned irritably and stomped off. There was a moment of stiff silence before all three of the Warners broke out laughing._

_"I didn't think you had it in you," Dot laughed._

_"Spur of the moment, I guess," Yakko said with a shrug._

_As he spoke however, he wasn't looking at her. He was instead glancing over at his brother standing over on the other side. Although he was laughing with the rest of them, there was a sense of uneasiness on his face that Yakko hadn't noticed until now – it had probably been stuck there even since he'd been attacked by Ace and the others; it might have even been stuck there before that. Wakko was staring deeply at the can of Plucky's charity money still sitting on the table, almost like he was trying to make sense out of it._

_"You alright, Wakko?"_

_"Yeah," Wakko said quietly. "Yeah, I'm alright. He just really shook me up back there – all of them did. I think they knocked the wind out of me." He eyed the charity jar again. "It wasn't right of him to do that, Yakko. It really wasn't. People shouldn't be allowed to get away with that."_

_"Hey, don't worry about it. You did the right thing. Nice job sticking it to the loon by the way._

_"Yeah, I guess," Wakko said with a smile. He seemed to go into deep thought for a moment before speaking. "Hey, remember what he said about that child star thing? I mean, what Ace said back there?"_

_"What, the curse? We're not the Jackson Five, Wakko. We'll be fine."_

_"Hey, you're all in one place!" Fifi LeFume cried cheerfully as she walked up to them. She was clutching a Polaroid camera in her hands and seemed to have finished her shift at the concession stand. "You guys want a picture? I figured it would fit the occasion."_

_"Sure," Dot said. "What about you guys?"_

_"I don't see why not. What about you Wakko?"_

_"Sure, I'm up for it."_

_The three of them crowded together for a moment until they settled on Wakko being in the center with his siblings chaperoning him at either side. There was a moment of sparse activity as Fifi fiddled with her camera and struggled to figure out how to work the buttons. As she worked, Yakko glanced up at the skyline over the lot where the stars shone down on the rehearsal halls and departments like a picturesque shot for a travel brochure. Then there was the water tower silhouetted by the moon not very far away, gleaming to the point where the studio's logo could even be read from where he was standing._

_"This is how it's supposed to be," Yakko thought. He thought it simply at first but was confident in the idea shortly after. "This is how you're supposed to be feeling."_

_"Smile!" Fifi cried._

_There was a flash of bright light and the sound of a camera spitting out a picture. Then -_

* * *

"What is it with you zoning out all the time?" Bonkers asked.

Yakko blinked. "Huh?"

"There you go again with it!"

The two of them were walking aimlessly through an alleyway not far from where they'd first met – it seemed to Yakko like all they'd done for hours was circle around that same street for hours without any sense of direction. Now that morning had finally arrived, the California sun was bearing down on the back of their fur and trickling out beads of sweat. The old bricks of the alleyway were gleaming with ancient advertisements and rather newer displays of graffiti, some vulgar and some unintelligible but of all it giving the area a dark sense of atmosphere. Having spent the entire morning in the town now, Yakko still stood by the fact that it was hardly different than a cemetery; the way the names of long dead actors seemed to parade billboards on every street didn't help either.

"I'm not sure," Yakko said after a moment. "I mean, we're having so much fun here, right?"

"Fair enough," Bonkers sighed. "It's just kind of weird. I mean, if you're not yakking so much I want to put a cork in your mouth, you're just kind of standing there thinking – it's like a two-sided coin with you. I'm not sure how to react when you zone out like that. I mean, I half-expected Rod Serling to come out and start narrarating."

"Picture a toon if you will ordering a plane ticket," Yakko said as he changed his voice. "Suave, smooth, maybe even devilishly handsome. He steps onto the plane boldly, unloads his luggage, and sits down expecting to get to his destination like any other passenger beside him. What he doesn't realize, however, is that Lansing Flight 347 isn't bound for the realms of this dimension. Yakko Warner has just stepped into the Twilight Zone."

"Hey, that was pretty good,' Bonkers said. "Drop your voice a little more and it'd be perfect."

"Someone knows a lot," Yakko noted. "I thought you were a cop, not a performer. Where'd you learn your stuff?"

"Ex-performer," Bonkers said stiffly. "Just because I'm a cop doesn't mean I don't know my toon stuff. I mean, I'm not that uncultured. I, um, I just dropped out of acting…"

"Why?"

"You know," Bonkers said in a clear effort to change the subject. "I never thought I'd be this happy to see sunrise. You really don't enjoy this stuff until someone's threatens to take it away from you. Hey, when you see the weather report and it says "partly cloudy" and then the next day it says "partly sunny"; what's the difference?"

"Why's the sky blue?" Yakko asked with his eyebrows raised. "Why does the last ice cube always stick to the bottom of the cup? Why is it illegal to park in a handicapped parking space, but legal to use a handicapped toilet? You could write a book on half of these questions. It doesn't mean you're going to find answers."

"You don't dream a lot, do you?" Bonkers said. "I guess they didn't offer idealism as an elective back where you went to school."

"Yeah, well, they didn't offer procrastinating either. Where are we going, Bonkers? We've been walking in circles for the last two hours. I mean, if we're supposed to be searching for people why don't we just search the place high or low? And, I mean, if it's not that…"

Bonkers glared suddenly. "What?"

"Nothing…"

"Are you implying that I got us lost?"

"Well, if the shoe fits."

"Trust me, my sense of direction's top notch. I'm used to being in the city. I'm a police officer remember? This is just everyday stuff for me."

Yakko exchanged a smile but didn't say anything. The last several hours had been difficult to say the least. Bonkers' sense of direction seemed to contribute to an overwhelming sense of paranoia as well. They would often stop at the end of street corners so Bonkers could go out and inspect the area for fifteen minutes, often giving Yakko police lingo signals with his hands that he couldn't even understand – this would normally result in him yelling at him for not listening well enough. While Yakko had thought the precautions were necessary at first, it had started to get old when the bobcat had insisted that they had to army crawl down the street three times in a row to throw off whoever was following them. Although Yakko wasn't one to doubt it, he had the feeling that if anybody had been following them at all, they probably would have given up hours ago with the amount of times Bonkers had insisted on crossing the same streets twice. What made it even more nerve wracking was the fact that every time they wasted twenty minutes to cross a street, his siblings were lost somewhere else in town.

"Sorry I've been so anxious," Yakko sighed after a moment. "It's just…"

"Slow down," Bonkers hissed.

They'd reached the end of the alleyway. While at first Yakko was tempted to roll his eyes at the idea of having to cross another street with the bobcat, his heart skipped a beat when he heard the sound of tire wheels skidding down the street in front of them. As Bonkers shoved him roughly against the brick wall of the alley to hide him, Yakko glanced out in horror at the sight of a halftrack patrolling down the street, littered from top to bottom with soldiers. Some of them were talking amongst themselves, some of them even laughing, but most were simply surveying the area as they'd been instructed too – glaring out at the street and holding out their snipers like poachers in the wild. They were only on the street for roughly half a minute but it seemed to drag on for an eternity. Yakko could have sworn he'd felt Bonkers's heart beating in his chest.

"That was a close one," Bonkers sighed after a moment. "Now what were you saying? Your brother and sister again?"

He said it with the sense that it was a story that he'd heard hundreds of times already. Feeling a little embarrassed and more than a little shell shocked from what had just happened, Yakko didn't answer. He sort of just awkwardly shrugged and decided not to answer – this was the one topic in the world where he always seemed to be utterly unsure of what to say.

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Bonkers said. "If anything's right in the world, they're on the lookout for you too. I may be an only child but I know how it feels in stuff like this. You can argue all you want, put the blame on each other even more, but at the end of the day, you still love each other to death – enough to try to find each other anyway."

"Tell that to Dot," Yakko sighed. "She'd probably get a kick out of it…"

"Hey, at least you're not completely making fun of me. A lot of people hear what I say and just call it crap. They treat me like I have the brain of four-year old. And you know what? Maybe I do. Hell, I'll go right outright and say it. I, Bonkers J. Bobcat, have the brain of a four-year old!"

"Was the four year old willing to give up his brain?"

"Hey, the one perk about calling yourself an idiot is that you don't have anything to live up to." He paused for a moment. "You know, it must not be easy for you."

Yakko stared. "Huh?

"Being the oldest."

"Oh," Yakko said quietly. He thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it into words. "Well, you get used to it. I mean, when you're younger you kind of question it sometimes, but if it's all you ever know, you just kind of take it at face value. You have to believe me - I really try to be a good parent, or a guardian, or whatever they'd call me these days. I mean, I try not to yell a lot – that's the one thing I really look out for. When you yell at anyone, even if it's a five-year old, well, you start sounding like a five-year old too. I try to be careful when I talk. I guess I try to choose what I say carefully."

"Yeah, and that really helped you at dinner last night," Bonkers said dryly.

"I did what I had to do…"

"Almost getting your head blown off was what you had to do?"

"And well, sometimes I guess I talk but don't think. Wakko's a lot better in that department."

"Yakko and now Wakko," Bonkers said as he shook his head. "Some names. What are you people – a family of rodeo clowns or something? Well, here we are."

Yakko blinked. He spun around in the alleyway to see that they were facing a rusted door with what looked like a small crevice in it for depositing letters – it was almost like something out of a spy movie at first. After glancing it over quickly enough however, Yakko realized that it looked similar to a doors that would to speakeasy bars in the 1920s.

"This?" Yakko asked. "This is it?"

"This is it."

"We've been walking in circles for hours and you knew where we were going the whole time? You were actually taking me somewhere?"

"I had to throw those bozos off our trail, didn't I?"

Yakko watched with mild interest as Bonkers stepped forward and knocked on the door with a gloved hand. There was a moment of foreboding silence where Yakko began to question whether or not following the bobcat had been the right choice. Then there was an elderly voice that echoed from inside, barely audible and just loud enough for Yakko to hear it from behind the door.

"Come in…"

"Who is this guy?' Yakko asked.

"I told you that you weren't the first person I met out here," Bonkers said. "Oh, before you go in – the guy's kind of old. I think he's deaf in one ear. You might have to speak up sometimes if you want him to hear you."

"Alright…"

"Oh, and one more thing. He's kind of weird too…"

"Who isn't?"

"Well," Bonkers said with a sigh. "Welcome to the Congo Bar then."

Yakko watched as Bonkers jiggled the doorknob for a moment before opening the door. Although they stepped into darkness at first, Yakko realized after a moment that they'd walked into a kind of tight little alcove that they usually had in fancy restaurants – the place where you usually sat and awaited your table. Following Bonkers underneath an archway, Yakko couldn't help drop his jaw as he walked into an enormous room. His interpretation of the place being a speakeasy was immediately proven right as they stepped out into an open eating area with nearly twenty tables set out beside a long bar; for what looked like the sole sake of provisions for the game they'd been thrown into, it was stocked openly with fresh liquor that layered the counters. All of the tables were covered in white cloth and eventually sloped down to a large stage near the east wall, where scantily clad flappers had likely performed and entertained working class men and gangsters after a hard day's work. The room was decorated with portraits of beautiful women that had begun to fade with age, although their eyes still seemed to follow Yakko eerily as he stepped in. The billiard table beside the bar sold the image completely – it was almost like Yakko had stepped into a time capsule and gone back to the fantasized age at the dawn of The Great Depression where alcohol had been prohibited and girls had bobbed their hair.

"He's over there," Bonkers whispered.

He nudged Yakko to look behind the billiard table where a large armchair sat by a fireplace. There was a figure sitting there, although its face was shrouded in darkness and the fact that the back of the chair was facing Yakko made it hard to see much of anything. The idea that he'd just stepped into a spy movie was becoming more omnipresent in the bar by the second.

"Take your shoes off at the door," the figure called out in an accent that was hard to place.

This immediately struck Yakko as odd, considering neither him nor Bonkers were wearing shoes – they were wearing what they'd typically worn during their respective shows after all and Yakko could hardly remember many times during filming where he'd worn shoes at all. He walked forward easily enough though, taking in a deep breath to reassure himself. He wondered if Wakko or Dot would have trusted anyone this easily; then he remembered in a flood of dread that he had no idea where they were.

It was then, however, that the figure in the chair sat up. Staring at the face suddenly illuminated by the burning fireplace, Yakko's heart skipped a beat at the prospect of being star struck in cold blood.

"Where'd you find him?" Marvin the Martian asked coolly.

Although a little worse for wear and walking with a bit of a limp, there was no denying the presence of one of the most recognizable living toons in Hollywood standing only several feet away. Just like everyone else in the game, Marvin was wearing the trademark outfit that he was recognized by – a helmet oddly resembling a Greek god, a long sleeved red shirt, and a green skirt of sorts hanging down from his waist. If it weren't for the surreal nature of the situation at hand, Yakko would have done a double take to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He wondered questionably why he hadn't recognized Wile E. at the airport as easily as Marvin, but the more he thought about the coyote, he decided to push it away. There would be time to sort out those issues later.

"He got jumped up near the middle of town," Bonkers said as he walked over and sat down at a barstool.

"Jumped?" Marvin repeated.

"Yeah, you know - attacked, mugged, banged out? I'm not sure what kind of slang they had back when you were a kid in the stone age but –"

"I was well aware of what you meant," Marvin said simply. "Care for a truffle?"

Bonkers stared in disbelief. "What?"

Marvin was innocently holding a shoebox full of what looked like gourmet pieces of chocolate. It took Yakko a moment to realize that he'd been sitting in front of the fireplace and using his powers to individually pull each of them out from behind his back.

"A dark chocolate truffle," Marvin said proudly. "I've been working on pulling them out of hammerspace for the last few months. I feel like I'm starting to get really good at it.

"You know Marvin," Bonkers said. "I'm not sure how they do things out on the final frontier, but when somebody on this planet nearly gets curb stomped to death, our first thoughts aren't where we're going to go to go to get candy."

"Suit yourself, earth creature" Marvin said as he popped one in his mouth and sat down on the barstool. "If you were noble enough to force yourself out there to do your little rendezvous and gather people up though, you might as well be modest enough to, well, accept an award."

"I only brought one back," Bonkers said uncomfortably.

"And that's one person you made a difference for. Of course, it's not like…"

It was then that Marvin locked eyes with Yakko for the first time, almost as if he'd just noticed he was there. Yakko watched uneasily as his tiny antlike eyes seemed to enlarge like pinhole cameras, studying him like he was an answer to some kind of complicated problem.

"What?" Yakko asked. "Some kind of alien greeting I'm missing out on?"

"No, but consider this complimentary."

Marvin reached into the box and tossed Yakko a truffle. He examined it for a moment before glancing back up at him with a smirk.

"What? Are Reese's Pieces overrated now?"

"I'll be sure to phone home later and give you an answer," Marvin said simply. "Of course, that's not going to be very tangible is it? No, not at all. Not when they take it to their accord to block our communication for the sole sake of harboring us into our little corners. Not when our sound waves are blocked by trivial inconveniences. Now when the wires leading underground are sliced and severed.

Yakko turned to Bonkers. "Translation?"

"They cut the telephone reception," Bonkers said blankly. "We can't even call for help."

"Oh."

Marvin leaned in closer. "My name is -"

"Marvin The Martian," Yakko said quickly. "Created by Chuck Jones, first appeared in the cartoon Haredevil Hare on July 24th, 1948. Created to act as another counterpart for Bugs Bunny other than Yosemite Sam. Only appeared in several early animated shorts but was able to attract a cult following decades later. Fame led to picture being on the Spirit Rover that now orbits Mars. Landed successfully on January 4th, 2004."

"Yikes," Bonkers said.

"It's important to know your stuff," Yakko said with a shrug.

"Of course, cult following has such a nasty little ring to it," Marvin said. "Anything you have with that word does. I'm not sure if there's any cult in the world that would be stupid enough to listen to me, but well, more power to them I suppose. I can't say I'm not impressed though. You know your stuff. Most toons your age don't even look at their own history.

"Yeah, well, I guess nobody wants to look at it much anymore, do they?

"A little tussle here and there," Marvin began. "And someone stamping "the okay" on a bill doesn't erase history. Besides, it's not like the world's prejudiced against us or anything – they're not. We haven't lost any of our rights. We haven't been asked to do anything other than leave Burbank. Now, before you give me everything they said on television, I want to ask your honest opinion: why did they ask us to leave California?

"Population control and rioting," Yakko said. "Everyone's getting put out of work because of the fact that nobody really draws toons anymore – the whole rise of computer technology thing. The lack of work lead to riots, the riots lead to uprising, and before we know it, we're shipped out. It's nothing interesting – it's just what happened. You'd have to be living in a cave to not follow what's going on."

"So vocal but so misinformed," Marvin said simply.

"Huh?"

"In that old song about the girl coming around the mountain, who was she?"

Yakko stared. "What did you say?"

"I was just thinking. You never actually learned who she was. Kind of weird someone would write a whole song about her when they don't even know who she is. Do you know who she is?"

"How should he know?" Bonkers said. "How the hell should I know? What does that have to do with anything?

"No need to be impulsive," Marvin said with a wink. "I was just wondering. Y'know, I think I'm going to start working on white chocolate next."

"I met him this morning," Bonkers sighed to Yakko. "I was trying to hide in here and I almost jumped out of my skin when I saw him sitting there. Actually, I practically did jump out of my skin. I jumped up and started hanging curled up on the chandelier up there."

"Well, that explains the power being out in here," Yakko noted. He hadn't even realized until now that there was a chandelier shattered on the ground near the stage.

"And then, well, we started talking and got the idea for the whole rendezvous thing," Bonkers went on. "Gathering people together and whatnot. He was pretty up for it at the time, but it's hard to keep him glued to one thing. He's senile - kind of scatterbrained.

"Just because I'm old doesn't make me deaf," Marvin said nonchalantly. "I'm fine with you talking like I'm not in the room so just carry on. So Yakko, go and tell me – how'd you get roped into this mess?"

And so with a deep breath, Yakko began to tell the story the entire story. He started with the telephone call that he'd gotten weeks ago asking him to fly to New York. Then he went on to mention the fiasco on the airplane leading into the hotel. He chose to sideline certain aspects of it, namely the incident with the coyote and Woody being shot to death on the plane – both belonged to unsavory territory he didn't wish to go into.

"Curious," Marvin said quietly when Yakko finished. "Very curious."

"What?" Yakko asked. "The fact that they conned all of us into coming here?"

"No," Marvin explained. "The fact that we all fell for it. All one-hundred of us – sure, there may have been a few alternative measures in the mix but somehow they rigged all of us into leaving Burbank. They knew exactly what to offer each of us to get us to come out – exactly what to say to get every last one of us to accept every proposition they handed out. They knew your weak spot was your brother and sister and they used it on you."

"This isn't a con though," Yakko said. "It's murder. I mean, you've got to be kidding if you think it's all just some kind of big joke."

"What goes around comes around," Marvin said. "If you believe in karma, they'll have it coming to them soon. That's the way it always works out".

It was then that Bonkers gave a quiet cough that was clearly meant to indicate sarcasm.

Marvin glanced around. "Something you want to share, Bonkers?"

"No," Bonkers sighed. "Must be a cold going around. What were you saying, Marv? Something about a proposition?"

But it was then that it started to dawn on Yakko exactly what he was doing. He glanced wearily between Marvin and Bonkers before glancing at the door he'd come through, thinking of everything that had led him into sitting in a darkened bar with two strangers. He thought of how he'd blindly followed Bonkers with the ray of hope that he'd be able to find someone willing to help. Then he thought about the seconds that he'd wasted zigzagging between streets and hiding when possibilities had been floating in the air – possibilities that he hadn't even considered until now; possibilities, unfortunately enough, that involved two very important people.

"Urgent appointment?" Marvin asked as Yakko suddenly got up.

"You told me you were going to lead me to someone who could help," Yakko said as he turned to walk toward the door. "You told me you were going to take me to somebody who knew what they were doing. I mean, I don't want to offend you or anything Marv. You're definitely someone I respect. It's just that I didn't come here to talk and eat chocolate. I really have to go and –"

"Do you think it's strange," Marvin began. "To meet someone you only knew on television?

Yakko spun around. "What?"

"It's strange to meet celebrities," Marvin said musingly. "Actors, for that matter. They can act one way on stage and build up an air around them – everyone knows their stage persona but nobody actually knows them. It's why I don't do interviews. I'd rather stay in the dark and not open my mouth and let the world in."

"I really don't see how this has anything to do with –

"United States, Canada, Mexico, Panama, Haiti, Jamaica, Peru –"

"Alright, I get it," Yakko said. "You know who I am – you probably watched our show. I figured that out when you called me by name. I just don't see where you're going with any of this, so if you'll excuse me, I have two milk carton photographs to look for."

"I just think it's sort of interesting how different those people can be when you get to know them. People can seem different when you see them on film – like they're on top of things; like they know what they're talking about just because they're reading off a script. It's just interesting when you finally get to meet them."

It was here that Yakko realized that the Martian was trying to find his boiling point. He was testing him, seeing how far he could get him before he decided to turn and walk out the door for good. A little more than annoyed now, Yakko turned back to face him.

"Listen buddy," Yakko said. "It's great that you're smarter than me and everything but you can keep it to yourself. You don't know me and the last thing I need is someone else telling me how wrong I am – how I'm not living my life right and all that jazz. Next thing I know it's everyone trying to change my mind! First it's Dot tearing my head off at home. Then it's Norb on the plane and -"

"Norbert Foster Beaver," Marvin recited. "Born, rather than drawn, on August 15th, 1981 to Leonard and Gladys Beaver. Brother and fraternal twin to Daggett Doofus Beaver. Starred alongside his brother at the age of sixteen in the mid-1990s show on Nickelodeon entitled The Angry Beavers. His show was canceled over a controversy before it attracted, as you put it, a cult following. He largely disappeared from the acting business and is reportedly living in Burbank. Cut and print."

"How…how do you know who Norb is? But anyway, besides that, it's Wakko telling me that -"

"Wakko Warner," Marvin said. "Drawn on September -"

"Alright, I get it," Yakko said. He shook his head and sat back down in resignation. "You're a walking encyclopedia. Good for you."

"Like you said," Marvin said simply. "It's important to know your stuff."

"What…what exactly do you want, Marv?"

"Well now that I have your attention, let's talk. It's something you do a lot so I'm sure you're up for it."

"I think you're crazy…"

"That's because he is," Bonkers said simply.

"Well, I won't deny that," Marvin said. He grimaced at the counter of the bar and suddenly dusted it off irritably with his elbow. "Blegh, dust bunnies. You'd think they'd clean this place up for us a little for us…"

"What makes you think your brother and sister need help so much?" Bonkers asked as he straightened up in his seat. "Who's to not say they're the ones worrying about you?"

"The last time Dot lost a video game with my brother she challenged the TV to kickboxing and put a hole in it," Yakko sighed. "She's a loose wire. You can't stop her from doing the things she does. And Wakko…"

Marvin stared inquisitively. "Yes?"

"I think…I think I need Wakko a lot more than he needs me…"

"Well, that's a step in the right direction then, isn't it?"

"What…what do you want from me, Marvin?"

"It's like I said," Marvin explained. "I'm not going to promise you anything. I'm not going to promise you things are going to be perfect here – they're not. What I can promise you though, is that I'm going to try to do what I can get your brother and sister back and make things as best as I can here. What I want you to know for sure though is that while I'm here, I'm going to do the best I can to do good."

"Do well," Bonkers pointed out. "It's do well, not do good."

"No," Marvin corrected. "It's do good. There's a difference."

There was another silence that hung in the air after this, but it was a pleasant kind of silence – a silence in which a strange kind of power seemed to exist now. Yakko glanced at the door to exit the bar and suddenly found himself just as apprehensive to leave as he was to stay – it was like a two-sided coin that failed to turn up in his favor either way. Unsure of what to do, he finally sighed and glanced up at Marvin to ask him the big question:

"What would happen to us if nobody listened to you?" Yakko asked. "What would happen if you said all of these important things but nobody even cared to listen to you? What would happen to someone like you if you didn't have a voice?"

It was then that a knocking sound echoed on the door outside, quickly followed by a shrill shriek. Both sounds occurred over the span of a second before they were silenced by the loud crack of a rifle, going on to echo like the aftermath of a cannon being fired and causing all three toons gathered in the bar to jump out of their seats. Yakko felt his heart pounding as the aftermath of the gunshot seemed to grow in noise rather than lessen. Guiltily thankful that he didn't recognize the shriek, he forced himself to take in that a complete stranger had just been shot dead just outside the bar. Glancing at the drinks laid out on the counter, Yakko debated whether or not he wanted one to ease his oncoming migraine. Bonkers seemed to beat him too it however, quickly uncorking a whisky bottle and sighing pitifully to himself before downing a long gulp. Yakko watched him and suddenly began to feel more frightened than ever before.

The three of them sat there for a moment after, unsure of what to say or even what to do. Then finally, leaning in toward Yakko, Marvin broke the silence:

"Well," he sighed. "I think that can serve as your answer, can't it?"

* * *

**A/N: Thanks a bunch to everyone sticking with this despite certain lags in productivity. I've gotten in a good rhythm lately, along with a lot of free time, so I hope to update at a much faster pace in the future. **


	9. Chapter 9

Not long after his brother resigned himself to a bottle of whiskey four blocks away, Wakko Warner let out a breathe of relief as he rose up from the floor for the twentieth and final time. He felt his muscles tighten and constrict as he pressed his hands against the cold ground. Wakko let a further sigh of relief as he finished the final set of push ups, satisfied at his accomplishment yet quietly dismayed that the rigorous workout had done little in helping him feel any better.

Wiping sweat from his brows, Wakko sat himself up and toon stretched, flexing his arms like rubber before letting them quietly shift back into shape. He had started his workout in the apartment's living room, having resorting to the old fashioned philosophy that a healthy body meant a healthy mind – or something like that. His mind had not grown calmer at all, however, from the omnipresent fact that Skippy had taken up the annoying habit of mimicking him at every step of the way.

At first the squirrel had done his best to make it seem casual, idly watching Wakko work before hurrying into the other room to do sit ups as well. This ultimately hadn't been necessary, seeing how Wakko had been able to hear his friend's groans of exasperation all the way from the living room. Things ended up getting out of hand when Skippy attempted feebly to do pull-ups on an iron bar he had tacked up to the kitchen doorway; he'd accidentally tore through the doorway and sent flakes of plaster raining down as he fell flat on his face. It seemed oddly to Wakko like the squirrel was trying to show his self-worth for some reason, almost as if he was frightened that the smallest trace of weakness would result in Wakko judging him.

A little unnerved with the fact that somebody seemed to be looking up to him, Wakko had then retreated into a room that appeared to be a closet at first glance but actually resembled a sunken-in bomb shelter. The room was stone and darkened, lined with wooden planks bolted to the wall that offered out antique cans of preserved food that didn't even have expiration dates on them. Hardly the picky eater, even Wakko had been revolted when he'd opened up a can of carrots and ended up pouring out a heap of foul-smelling gray mush onto the cold floor.

Wakko rose up gradually now and ended up doing a double talk as he caught sight of the broken mirror mounted to the wall. He blinked as he stared at what could have easily been his ten-year old self, clad in a familiar red hat and blue shirt. The fact that toons didn't grow physically past the image that their creator had conceived had the tendency to make pin pointing picture dates a hassle, seeing how Wakko at twenty now looked eerily similar to Wakko about to step back into his fifth grade classroom. For a bizarre second, Wakko even had the urge to look at his reflection in the darkened mirror and ask for advice. As a child it had always seemed like grownups had all the answers, but now Wakko himself felt no different than a small child when it came to dealing with his situation. He stared at his reflection enviously for a moment, almost as if it was mocking him, challenging him. In the back of his mind, the part that had probably already gone crazy, he fantasized about how easy it would be if he could simply step through the mirror with open arms and embrace the years in his life where he hadn't needed to worry about those kind of things again. Those times were part of a façade now however and - wiping his face as he glanced away from the mirror - Wakko wondered quietly if Yakko had been feeling the same way lately.

As his thoughts drifted to his brother however, Wakko felt a wave of fear and shuddered; he quickly resigned himself back to his workout soon. He had made it a pact not to think about Yakko or Dot until he saw them again. As it turned out, keeping the pact was even harder than promising his older brother that he'd keep himself safe.

"You always do that when you're scared?"

Settling down to do another set of push-ups, Wakko glanced up in surprise as Skippy stepped into the small room. Wakko noticed with unease that the squirrel quickly latched the door shut behind him. It was a small detail to pick up but it somehow made things even more real – it really was a, "trust-no-one," situation, and they were all trapped together like sardines in a can. The very injustice of it made Wakko want to scream.

"Only on my good days," Wakko said simply.

Skippy shuddered. "I'd hate to see your bad ones then…"

"Whatever," Wakko said. "Hey, could I have half of that?"

He'd noticed that Skippy was holding a moldy sandwich, half wrapped in aluminum foil and looking even more like an antique than the preserved food on the shelf. He noticed at the same time that his stomach was growling like a locomotive.

"I found it in the back of the refrigerator wrapped in tinfoil," Skippy said with a grimace. "Or, I mean, whatever they used before they had tinfoil. It has white stuff growing on it.

Wakko smiled softly. "Better than green stuff."

"You're gross."

"Don't knock it until you try it. Toss it over."

Skippy muttered something under his breathe before tossing the lumpy sandwich over to Wakko. He sat down on the ground afterward hugging his knees, tracing his finger back and forth on the cold ground. Wakko watched him as he ate sparingly, becoming more uncomfortable by the minute like Skippy's finger was the slow ticking of a clock. He was a bit surprised when the squirrel finally broke the silence.

"So, um, you look for any work lately?" Skippy asked. "The way I see it, the whole acting scene's a dumb business anyway - especially when you're trying to get back into it; nothing but the paparazzi following you around every second and trying to find something wrong with you. That's what my aunt used to say." He was quiet for a moment before his head jerked up in alarm. "I mean, I'm not saying they're all bad. I'm sure there' s some of those guys with cameras who are probably really nice and –"

"I get what you mean, Skippy," Wakko said. "And I haven't really done that much. Yakko's kind of kept us out of the limelight. We did this child star reunion thing on TV last year and Dot keeps saying she's going to be famous again one day, but our names are pretty washed up."

"That's a shame."

"Nah, ask anyone else in Burbank. It's show business."

"You guys are talented."

"Yeah. Now all we have to do is be lucky …"

Wakko glanced away sheepishly and ended up catching sight of something he hadn't noticed upon walking in. Adorned across the concrete walls like faded tapestry were framed portraits of Hollywood ballroom parties, most of them composed of girls in frilly dresses and bobbed hair with their lovers nursing champagne in their free hands. The feeling in the room was convivial and warm with everyone's face arced into a smile, reddened with liquor and the thrill of nightlife. Looking at all of it – from the men in tuxedos to the long dead movie stars – Wakko found himself feeling oddly out of place.

"Skippy," Wakko asked suddenly. "Do you go out a lot?"

"Me?" Skippy replied in surprise. "Um no, not really. Why? Should I?"

"I was just thinking," Wakko went on. "My brother's always trying to get me to go out with him to clubs and stuff to meet these girls – the whole downtown crowd, I guess. I think he sees something in them. My bet is he's trying to turn me into a clone of him, but he's not sure how to do it."

"Get a little taller and take off your hat" Skippy said with a smile. "That'll do it."

"Yeah, I guess it would," Wakko said with a soft chuckle. It died out quickly and he was quiet for a moment after. "I try to have fun when I'm there, Skip. I really do. I mean, I like to have fun as much as the next guy. I just can't really find my niche. I don't feel right around those kinds of people."

"Hey, it's no big deal!" Skippy said. "You're just quieter. Quieter people are usually nicer to me anyway." He paused for a moment, looking rather uneasy. "Why are you telling me this now, Wakko?"

"I don't know," Wakko said simply. "It feels like the right time to get things off my chest. Hey, you want to play a game, Skip?"

Sparked with inspiration by the painting and more than a little desperate to take his mind off things, Wakko rummaged behind his back with some difficulty and retrieved a bottle of whiskey. Skippy stared at it hesitantly for a moment, almost as if he thought that Wakko was conning him into making a fool out of himself.

"I don't really drink that much, Wakko…"

Wakko winked. "Neither do I."

"Fair enough," Skippy sighed as he pulled out a bottle of his own. "So, what are we playing?"

"I don't know. I kind of thought you'd know something…"

"My aunt used to get drunk at studio parties," Skippy said softly. "They'd do this thing where they'd go around in a circle and take turns saying things they never did. If anyone else did it, they take a drink."

"I guess I'll start then," Wakko said. He paused and thought about it for a moment before speaking. "I've never left California in my life…"

"I guess I go then," Skippy said with a weak smile. He took a small sip and wrinkled his nose a little. "I…I never tried cantaloupe…"

Wakko smiled. "Skippy, it's supposed to be interesting."

"I thought that was interesting?" Skippy said in confusion. "And if it's not, well, it's weird to think about. There's so many little things you forget to do when you still have the chance to." He paused and thought for a moment again. "I never finished a game of Monopoly."

"I've never been to a baseball game."

"I've never been to Disneyland."

"I never went to a real college."

"I never got up to belch music in front of a bunch of people when -

"Hey, you can't target me! That's against the rules!"

"Fair enough, " Skippy sighed. "How about this? I never got over our show being cancelled." He paused for a moment. "You know, I'm getting kind of tipsy. You want to stop for now?"

Wakko grinned. "I guess we're not joining a sorority anytime soon, are we?

It was then that a new voice cut through the air:

"Hey you, let me grab a word for a second!"

The two boys turned to see Scrooge standing in the doorway, pallid and scowling at the world as always from behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. His coat was now stained with grease as if he'd spent the last few hours working at a gas station as opposed to trying to find a way to get home; it was a good indication to Wakko of just how blind their trust for the old duck was to begin with.

"The puppy dog," Scrooge said gruffly when Wakko and Skippy looked at one another. "Not the squirrel."

"Just let it go," Skippy whispered in his ear. "At last he realizes you're a boy..."

Scrooge's eyes narrowed. "Well, are you coming or not?"

Wakko nodded meekly before rising up and wiping sweat from his brow. He followed Scrooge out of the room and left an apprehensive Skippy behind in his wake. They walked down the peeling halls of the tenement apartment before reaching the hallway staircase, jutting and sloping down to the floor like an ascension leading up to the sky. Wakko walked carefully as he trailed up the steps after Scrooge, hearing a tweaking crack in the wood each time he stepped. In a way, each creak was almost a cementation of the truth to Wakko: a series of grim reminders. Each step up seemed to make the facts of their situation even more concrete. We're here and they don't want us out…

"Take a load of it, boy!"

Wakko's jaw dropped when he peeked up to the roof, feeling a brush of autumn air as he stepped out to what looked like a full-fledged funhouse over the city line. The roof was now sullen with more than enough cartoonish mayhem imaginable; it had become a long stretch of concrete that hosted a circus of maladies with something cracking and fizzling at every surface. Large bombs sat stoic like massive bowling balls whilst stacks of dynamite rose up on towering, red pyramids. Among the mess were a handful of instruments that seemed to have arrived solely on the spur of the moment: a frying pan; a stack of tennis balls; even a detonator from the old west practically begging an ambitious toon to come over and push the lever down. It was no wonder to Wakko now why Scrooge seemed so exhausted; he'd practically worked his hammerspace to death in the past several hours. Wakko would have been mesmerized if he hadn't quickly spotted a flaw in Scrooge's design.

"There's no point," Wakko said quietly. "Toon powers can't hurt humans."

"We're blowing up the town," Scrooge hissed. "They'll just go and burn down with it. Good riddance for a good cause." He paused and glanced out over the rooftop. "Nice view up here…"

"The best…"

Scrooge's eyes narrowed. "You know anything about dynamite, Rosko?"

The truth was that Wakko probably knew enough about toon physics to make the duck's head hurt. If toons were even able to feel proud of their heritage, Wakko would have been the first on the pedestal to proclaim the history of the fine art of slapstick, ranging from anvils toppling out of the sky to mallets pounding down into the earth. With Scrooge's eyes cutting into him however, Wakko merely shook his head – in a way, this seemed to be the better decision. Scrooge seemed to like criticizing everyone so it seemed like the most complacent way of keeping him calm.

"You damn kids and your short attention spans," Scrooge spat. "I'd blame cartoons for that one, but well, I guess then we'd be the source of the problem, eh? Cartoons – do they really still have the nerve to call them that? Cruel sick joke if you ask me. If the crap they're streaming on the television these days are cartoons, well, I'm an old nun." His eyes narrowed again. "You watch the old stuff, boy?"

"Yeah, I'm into the old stuff," Wakko said a little. He brightened up a little. "My brother got me this whole collection of Looney Tunes for my birthday last –"

"Did I say you could talk?" Scrooge said harshly. "That's another thing with your lot – absolutely no patience! You want the whole world handed down to you on a silver platter. Any work ethic you had went down the drain the moment they invented things to rot your head like record players." He paused for a moment. "When'd those come out, Rosko? Two years ago? Three?"

"Probably four," Wakko replied. He didn't feel like giving a reason for Scrooge to keep talking.

"Thought so," Scrooge sighed. "I'm not that old you know, sonny. I'm not that old at all but I've built more of a gold mine than most of those hotshots these days can dream of. I know how to prioritize; how to make a living; how to really rise up and show this damn world what it means to work hard! But then, right out of the blue, they throw me in here? Does that seem fair to you, Rosko?"

"Can't say it does, sir."

"It's garbage, that's what is!" Scrooge cried. "They think they can kick a geezer when he's down! They think just because I'm a little over the hill they can throw me out just like the rest of them – like I'm a cheap commodity. But that's why we're going to get them with surprise, aren't we? That's why we're going to spin them around and really stick it to them? Aren't we?"

"I don't know what you're getting at."

"The other one told me about you," Scrooge said coldly. "He says that you have…episodes."

Wakko stared. "Episodes?"

"Outbursts, boy!"

Wakko shifted uncomfortably in his stance. He suddenly felt the urge to leave the apartment building altogether, having no interest to participate in an all too familiar conversation. Still feeling the cold presence of Scrooge's eyes however, he found himself rooted to the spot.

"Skippy told you that, huh?" Wakko asked quietly.

"I forced it out," Scrooge said. He paused for a moment, stepping so close that Wakko could smell his raw breathe. "So, can you do it right now for me?"

"You want me to have one now?"

"Well, do you propose we wait until next Christmas? Have one now, boy!"

"I don't think I can," Wakko said suddenly. The words tasted horribly and he immediately regretted them. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Scrooge. "I mean, I would if I could – it's just, well, they just don't happen like that. It's really a spur of the moment kind of thing. I get this weird feeling in me like I'm not in control of anything – sort of tingly, but not really. You don't know how it feels until it happens to you. Then the next thing I know, well, anything that can break near me is broken..."

"But you do it a lot?" Scrooge demanded. His eyes were nearly bulging out of his head. "You've been doing it a lot lately?"

"I'm on medications for it. They took them away from me when we got here. I haven't had one in a few months now. The doctor says I'm making progress…"

"Progress?" Scrooge said with a wry laugh. "That's what they're calling it – progress?"

"Yeah," Wakko said. "Progress. Why wouldn't it be?"

"You're gifted, boy!" Scrooge cried. "That's what you are! Don't you see it? You're our one-way ticket out of this rat hole town! You're the one that's going to get me back home in my hot bath! You're the one that's going to lead us all out of here – don't you get it? You're the one that's going to go and be the hero here! And I bet they fed you all kinds of medical lingo didn't they? All that new age, big-word crap? Tried to sound like they were smarter than you, didn't they?"

"They knew what they were talking about," Wakko said stiffly. He'd been wrong about many things but advocating his outbursts was over the line. "I mean, I could hurt people if I'm not careful."

"Stop backing them up," Scrooge snapped. "Just listen to what I'm saying here. What if we could egg you into having a big one – your biggest one yet? An outburst so big that it could tear this whole city down in one drop of an anvil? What if we could get you to take those oversized G.I. dolls?"

"I guess that would be something else then…"

"Show some enthusiasm boy," Scrooge spat. "I feel like I'm talking to a corpse!"

"I guess that'd really be something then!"

"That it would, Rosko," Scrooge said with a cold smile. "That it would."

It happened on the spur of the moment. Wakko hardly had time to blink before Scrooge swung his first hard into the side of his mouth; his teeth bit painfully down on his tongue as a result. He hardly had time to straighten himself before Scrooge nailed him again, this time dishing out a surprisingly powerful uppercut to the chin that rattled Wakko to the core. Vaguely aware that cartoon stars were involuntarily whizzing around his head, Wakko let out a low cry before collapsing to the ground.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Wakko moaned.

"Why do you think?" Scrooge yelled. "Up on your feet, boy! I'm going to work one of those tantrums out of you if it takes all night!"

"Listen, we could just talk this over. I –"

Wakko didn't have time to prepare for the kick that Scrooge delivered to his gut next. The duck thrust out his foot and retrieved a whiny howl from deep within him. Hardly able to think with his blood boiling, Wakko's mind somehow settled on the image of Dot at the airport an eternity ago. He remembered her standing in the door of the jet way scowling at her brothers; even in the memory of it, her grimace did little to shake the desperate plea in her eyes. She'd wanted them to stay in the city, and if they had, none of this would have happened. The three of them would have still been together. It was the uncanny realization of it that almost robbed Wakko of the courage to even try to get up again.

"Don't fight it!" Scrooge screamed. "Just let it happen! Feel the sting of that cut! Hit me back with all you're worth! Come on boy, get up and knock me a good one!"

"You're a crazy old man!" Wakko howled.

"No, I'm not!" Scrooge roared. "I'm an old man who wants some time left, that's all! Am I crazy for that?"

"Wakko, what's going on? Scrooge, what are you doing to him?"

It was Skippy. Wakko had been anticipating another blow from Scrooge when the familiar voice of the squirrel cut though the air. He seemed to have overheard the commotion from down in the apartment and was now hurriedly running over.

"Why are you doing this? He didn't do anything! Why would you -"

"Toughening him up, that's what I'm doing!" Scrooge cried. "I'm trying to get him to see his real potential. He's not going to get us all out of here being a sissy!"

"You're nuts!" Skippy screamed. "He's bleeding! Wakko, I'm so sorry! Let's get you out of here!

"Get your paws off of him, Shiela!" Scrooge yelled back. "He's going to stay here until he learns how to get this right – even if it takes the rest of the goddamned day, we're going to make it so we know what gets him to do what he does best!"

"He has a problem," Skippy said. "A condition. You're only making it worse. If his brother and sister were here, they'd -"

But it was too late. Wakko had known it was going to happen ever since Skippy had arrived. He'd only been vaguely aware that the squirrel had even come out, however, attributed to the fact that his vision had clouded; it was almost like a grayed veil had been thrown over his eyes. The other bodies on the roof seemed to fade away until Wakko was only aware of his own, feeling his heart pound like a diesel train as hot steam began to shoot out from his ears; it correlated with the whining sound of a kettle whistle as his teeth grinded together like a wood chipper. While Wakko may have been immune to the world around him, he was not in any way immune to the familiar feeling of the hysteria. It seemed to surge throughout him like mercury on a thermostat, almost blowing a mental fuse as he felt his tongue slump out of his mouth even more than usual. Wakko's eyes spun around in his head like a slot machine; his ears twirled feverishly like propellers as he felt the world turn into a blur. It was almost as if Wakko Warner had turned into the living embodiment of a cartoon character.

"Wakko!"

He only heard the cry vaguely, almost as if Skippy's voice roamed the planes of a world far away from his own. A maniacal laugh erupted from inside him as Wakko began to spin in a blinding whirlwind of dust, his tongue battered against the fur on his cheek. What happened next were only a series of episodes that he would recall later like the afterthoughts of a surreal dream: one moment he had leapt on Skippy and kissed him sloppily; the next he had donned a hula skirt with a coconut bra and danced around with sparklers; then he had morphed into the shape of a rocket ship and took off into the air whistling the national anthem. Even as the scenes went on, Wakko could distinctively hear Skippy's final words echoing in the lost realms of his head. His brother and sister. His brother and sister…

"Wakko, stop! Don't hurt me!"

Wakko blinked just in time, almost as if an anchor had just dragged him back to reality. He gawked at the sight of a traumatized Skippy standing in front of him. His eyes were wide and a cartoonish stick of dynamite was jutting out of his mouth like a cigar – a cigar that Wakko had involuntarily just planted there in the midst of his episode. Wakko's heart skipped a beat again at the sight of the lit match in his gloved hand now, only inches away from the string hanging from the stick in Skippy's mouth. Scrooge was standing uselessly nearby, beaming with a vulgar look of pride that disgusted Wakko to no end. You could have hurt him. You really could have hurt him…

"Sorry, Skippy," Wakko mumbled. He put out the match and collapsed to the ground.

"That's how we do it!" Scrooge cried with a loud clap. "That's how we do it! I knew you had it in you, boy! I knew you had it all along!"

"Wakko…" Skippy said hesitantly.

"I'm all right," Wakko sighed. "I'm all right, really. It's fine, Skip."

"Wakko?" Scrooge yelped. "And why didn't you tell me that was your name? Stupid boy! Now go wash up and come back to practice in twenty! We have a town to take down!"

"He's not coming back for your damn training!" Skippy cried. "Come on Wakko, let's take you downstairs and get you cleaned up! You've got blood all over your face…"

Skippy quickly guided Wakko away before Scrooge could say anything else. With his head feeling like it had just flown feather-light through the air, Wakko was hardly aware of anything at all. His next conscious thought was being guided down the steps and led into the bathroom of the apartment. He winced like a migraine as Skippy turned the faucet on over the sink. It was a whiny sound that seemed to pierce deeply into his throbbing head.

"I should have never listened to that scuzzball," Skippy muttered. He tested the water and passed Wakko a washcloth. "I should have never let him rope me into following him if this was all he had in his mind. I'll sit in my grave before I let him use you like a puppet. Does your face feel any better?"

The water burned but Wakko bit his lip and ignored t. He was vaguely aware of the sound of cackling echoing down from the roof now. Scrooge was laughing. While Wakko knew he should have felt infuriated, he somehow only felt scared.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good…"

"So what do you feel when that happens?"

"I don't know," Wakko sighed. "I can't really describe it."

"And it's been happening like that forever? I mean, it was never that bad when you were a little -"

"It didn't get bad until I was ten," Wakko sighed. "Now it's just dangerous."

Rubbing his wet fingers down his aching face, Wakko grimaced as he looked up into the mirror at the face staring back at him; a face with it's white fur matted with red; a face with eyes that looked defeated but still desperate to hang on for some insane reason. Underneath it all however, Wakko saw something else in the mirror – something he'd spent a long time thinking about but seemed to get less tangible of happening every time. Looking back at the mirror, Wakko was met with a young toon in a red cap with a goofy smile on his furred face, clad in a blue shirt and smiling – smiling, in fact, because it was the last day of school and summer had started. Wakko stared at the reflection but it didn't smile back – mainly because the boy hadn't been there to begin with.

"We don't belong here," Wakko thought. The words were simple but they resonated deeply within him.

"I want to get out of here, Wakko," Skippy said after a moment. "God, do I want to get out of here…"

Bending down to wash his face again, Wakko had never agreed with anyone more in his entire life.

* * *

"Jessica Rabbit or Lola Bunny?" Bonkers J. Bobcat asked.

"Are you kidding me?" Yakko Warner asked. "Jessica all the way. I always though the whole Lola obsession thing was weird."

The two of them were in the lounge area of the bar, Yakko sitting in one of the armchairs whilst Bonkers knelt on the ground in front of him. The bobcat was tinkering with the massive chandelier that had fallen to the floor earlier, slapping it beneath layers of duct tape until it looked like some kind of gray cocoon. Yakko watched as Bonkers whistled a bouncy tune rather forcibly under his breathe, lassoing a thick rope before throwing it up to knot above one of the bar's high rafters with a surreal kind of expertise. He gave the rope a good tug before tying the other end of it to the chandelier. As the thing began to rise steadily into the air, it seemed to Yakko like an accident waiting to happen.

"How about Jessica or Minerva Mink?" Bonkers asked as he steadied the chandelier.

Yakko smiled softly. "You know, that's a pretty dirty trick considering I worked with her. And just so you know, the camera takes off ten pounds."

"Yeah, well, I could have went with Hello Nurse but I didn't want you to strain yourself."

"Fair enough," Yakko sighed. He eyed his friend's work skeptically. "You really think this is going to work, Bonks?"

Yakko was speaking of the hundreds of electrical cords and plugs that Bonkers had protruded from hammerspace, looking comically out of place in the ancient nature of the bar. Bonkers had facilitated between them all for a long time before settling on a green cord that looked like a boa constrictor, going on to wrap it around the chandelier like some kind of abstract art piece.

As Yakko finished speaking now, Bonkers was busy ripping off a piece of duct tape with his teeth. He had to finish before he answered.

"Trust me, I know plugs like the –

"Back of your hand," Yakko finished for him. "Big resume you've got there – cop, performer, and now an electrician. Is there anything you can't do?"

"Well, I can't tap dance."

"Just don't electrocute yourself. I don't want to clean it up."

"Hey, the more slapstick the better!" Bonkers said brightly. "And we cats have got nine lives anyway! And so on the first day, God said let there be light!"

Yakko watched apprehensively as Bonkers leapt up and dashed over to the wall, pulling the lever with all of his might. There was a hesitant moment of flickering before the chandelier bathed the bar in light, passing over the counters and armchairs like an instant sunrise. Yakko stared up at the grand chandelier above them now, almost resembling a glowing, ornamental sphere held up with the duct tape lathering it. It was almost like a massive crystal ball was now hanging down. It clearly wasn't what the architect had intended when building it but through Bonkers's ingenuity, it had ended up working just fine.

"I guess I shouldn't have doubted you after all," Yakko said.

"Guess you shouldn't have!" Bonkers said. "And with that out of the way, the Holy Father's going to skip to the seventh day! Cheers to avoiding our problems!"

Yakko watched as Bonkers sat down and victoriously snatched out a bottle of the bar's whiskey that he had stored in hammerspace earlier. He uncorked it like a rocket taking off before taking a deep swig. Almost immediately afterward, he began to spit and sputter onto the carpet.

"What?" Yakko asked with alarm. "It's not poison, is it?"

"It's horrible!" Bonkers spat. "Just horrible! Those big shot phonies behind this stupid game did it, I'll betcha! They poured something in it to make it taste rotten! All I wanted was a drink! What, I can't even have a drink now?'

Yakko smiled. "I guess they hate us more than we thought…"

"Yeah, well, I'm pulling my own liquor from now on."

"How'd they rope you into coming here anyway, Bonkers?"

"I got a letter saying my friend Lucky ate himself into having a heart attack," Bonkers said rather quickly. "I was going out to New York to go to his funeral. Now that I look back at it, something tells me the fatso's nowhere near a cemetery right now. I should have recognized a forged note when I saw it…"

"I didn't get a letter," Yakko said with mild surprise. "They called me on the phone."

"Well, good for you then," Bonkers said. He glanced behind Yakko's chair. "What's Marv working on over there?"

At the mention of the third member of their party, Yakko and Bonkers turned to catch the familiar sight of Marvin The Martian sitting on the carpet nearby, defused from the situation at hand and busily tinkering away with what looked like a megaphone and a handful of other oddities – a rubber duck and a box of nails among them. The strangeness of the whole thing nearly made Yakko question whether deciding to stay in the bar had been a good idea or not. Marvin seemed content with his work however, humming old show tunes under his breath as he assembled whatever he was working on. The whole thing reminded Yakko eerily of watching the handiwork of a mad scientist.

"God only knows," Yakko sighed. "I'd go up and ask him but he'd probably just start using science mumbo jumbo to make my head hurt. He didn't tell you anything he was up to before?"

"He kept getting excited and talking about sound levels and velocity and things like that," Bonkers sighed. "It was pretty much gibberish to me – probably more than me to you. I never really did that well in school. They said I was too hyperactive for my own good."

Yakko smirked. "They said I didn't know when to shut up."

"Maybe we could have been friends."

"Maybe we could have," Yakko replied. He paused for a moment. "How about Michelle Plieffer or –"

The sound came then like a nail being pounded into a coffin. The two of them turned to face each other at the same time with their smiles fading like ghosts on their faces. It was the second sound that got them on the edge; they sprung up from their seats when they heard it, a sound like a door struggling to close before being latched and locked clumsily. It was a sudden noise – more than a little unwelcome given the circumstances – and it had come from the door to the liquor vault.

"What's that?" Marvin called out. He'd emerged from his handiwork and stood up. "What's going on?"

"How should we know, Han Solo?" Yakko shot back.

"Do either of you hear anything?" Marvin asked. It seemed almost like he'd disregarded Yakko completely. "It's all right. We barricaded the door. They shouldn't be able to get –"

The door to the liquor vault flung open like it had been smashed by a tidal wave. A large shadow darted out like a bullet spit out of a gun, whizzing with the flapping wings of a vampire bat. Yakko's fur stood up as the thing crashed down the bar counter and sent bottles of whiskey crashing to the ground, causing Marvin to jump back in surprise and topple over a coffee table. Bonkers screamed and toppled back in his armchair, nearly tumbling out - it wasn't enough, however, to avoid the blow of the thing as it rebounded and shot toward him. Yakko listened in shock to the haunting crack as the shadow collided with Bonkers's shoulder, making him howl and fall clumsily out of his seat. It was then that Yakko made the stark realization of what the shadow actually was: a toon; not just a toon, but some kind of bird wielding a –

"Bat!" Bonkers cried. "He's holding a bat! He broke my arm! He broke my arm!"

Yakko watched in horror as the bird flapped around the bar like some sort of prehistoric creature, batting its wings and swinging its bat feverishly. It took out a picture of a long deceased actress by the stage before recovering and whizzing off in the other direction. Yakko ducked just in time to avoid being clobbered as the bird flew over him, swinging its bat like a fisherman angling for the catch of a lifetime. Yakko felt the brush of air tippling his fur as the toon passed and nearly felt sick to his stomach.

"Are you all right?" Marvin asked as he dashed up beside him. "Did you get hit? Did you -"

Marvin's words were cut off by the bird colliding against his chest, sending him flying across the room as if he'd been harpooned. He landed roughly against the counter as Yakko let out a startled gasp. Liquor bottles clattered to the floor and shattered as the Martian struggled to break free. Yakko's heart skipped a beat as he watched the bird's wing swiftly wrap and constrict around Marvin's neck, throttling and proceeding to choke the light out of him. The fluorescent lights of the bar bathed down on the scene in guerilla cinematography as Marvin's eyes begin to squint on his antlike face, his body squirming as the bird shook him senselessly like a rag doll.

"Do something!" Bonkers howled from the other side of the room. "Come on, do something!"

Yakko felt glued to the spot, almost as if he was standing on the jet way again with his sister pleading for them to stay in the city. Everything moved with a sense of hyper reality as Yakko stared at the bird and blindly swung his hand behind his back, involuntarily retrieving the first thing that came to his mind – he wasn't exactly thrilled when he did either.

"A birdhouse!" Bonkers called out. "Great idea, Yak! Invite more of the bastards to come in here, why don't you?"

But he only heard Bonkers's words in the back of his mind. Moving with only the power of first instinct, Yakko launched himself forward like a gymnast taking a leap of faith, bringing a wooden birdhouse down hard on the intruder's head. He felt chilled to the bone when he heard an ear-splitting crack, punctuated by a howl as the birdhouse connected with the top of the bird's skull. The bird's wings waved about in the air, swiping about for Yakko in a battering mess; it was only the sight of them reaching out for him that prompted Yakko into making the second blow. He cried and brought the wooden house down on the bird's head again – and again. There was eventually a time where the sound was dense like a final nail being pounded into a coffin. The toon let out a quiet sigh – a final statement to the world almost – before it fell limply to the floor with its wing spread like a bed sheet. Its glassy eyes stared out like marbles in the fluorescent light, and sitting in shock on the ground as the situation slowly came into focus, Yakko found himself looking at the bird's face for the first time.

"We're fine," Bonkers muttered. He was stepping forward clutching his arm. "Thank God, we're fine…"

"No we're not," Yakko said quietly. "I know this guy. I went to school with him..."

Yakko felt numb as he looked down at the bird; he blinked as if it would go away if he tried hard enough. Concord Condor's face had a dubious look of pleading on it now, almost as if his final wish had been for Yakko to recognize him and have a semblance of mercy. His wings were speckled with drops of red like a dirty shower curtain; beside him the baseball sat like a eulogy for the murder, rolling slightly as it settled into place beside the shattered birdhouse. Yakko gawked at it all but couldn't bring himself to stop looking. He felt like a yearbook photograph had just been torn in front of his face. His mind trailed back to a young toon with a look of blissful stupidity on his face, resigned to being a casual face in the crowd and content with it. He'd joined in on their baseball games on the lot, even hung around in the city to see a movie when they'd all gotten a little older, but never done anything to attract attention. Concord had been satisfied with being a follower and had probably been better off that way, usually unable to put a coherent thought together without Plucky Duck whispering it from over his shoulder.

And now, Yakko Warner had murdered him.

"He was caught up in the moment," Marvin said quietly. Yakko was vaguely aware that he had put his hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault what people do when they're scared. They change. It's just the way things are.

"Doesn't make it right," Yakko said softly. He stepped away from Marvin to hide the fact that he was starting to cry. "I want to see them again," he muttered. "I want to see them before it's too late for them too…"

Marvin stared. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," Yakko sighed. He composed himself together and turned around, wiping up his tears as quickly as he could. "I guess the cabin fever's getting to me…"

"If you say so. Well, time to get a move on then!"

Despite his shock, Yakko couldn't mask his surprise as Marvin turned away with an obscene bounce in his step, swaying his arms and walking back to his handiwork on the carpet. He retrieved the megaphone that he had been tinkering with, although the term megaphone seemed to be stretching it now. It now resembled a comical kaleidoscope full of twirling knobs and gears – a result of Marvin tossing a fair share of toon physics into the contraption. It resembled a prop from a Doctor Seuss book now than anything else.

"Wait, what exactly are you doing Marvin?" Bonkers asked.

"Exactly what I said was going to do," Marvin said simply. 'We're going to make a rendezvous – make things right around here the best way we can! We're going to rally everyone in this town together!"

"And how exactly do you propose we do that?" Bonkers asked.

As suspecting as he was of the truth, Yakko couldn't stifle his surprise when Marvin winked and indicated the megaphone in his hands.

"Marv, you're crazy!" Bonkers cried. "They'll hear that and come barging in here! They'll shoot us all to shreds! You're not serious about this! You can't be!'

"I'm as serious as I've ever been in my life," Marvin said. "Which to be honest, well, isn't saying a lot. I rigged this megaphone enough for it to reach most of the town here. I'm going to climb up on the roof through the hatch in the liquor vault and blow the horn. As much as I hate to say it, we're at least a bit fortunate that that vultur gryphus came in. It was through the door in the liquor vault – there has to be a hatch to the roof in there. I'll hide up there so they won't be able to see me from the street. One of you can come up with me and keep a lookout – if you see any toons coming, signal them toward the door in the alley. If you see any soldiers wandering around, stay hidden. That way they'll stay clueless and we'll stay safe."

"You're taking a big risk you know," Bonkers said coldly.

"Well, who's to say a risk won't work with a little faith then?"

"We were just attacked!" Bonkers cried. "Attacked! You seriously think a quick glimpse down at one of the faces down there is enough to tell whether they're good or bad – if they're cuckoo or not? For all we know, you could be calling every last nutball in this town into one place! You might as well be signing a death wish right now! We could -

Bonkers went on talking but Yakko wasn't listening. He was staring down at Concord's body in a blank kind of stupor, unsure of what to say or even what to think. His mind drifted back to the idea of the hundred toons just like the condor aimlessly wandering the streets, too frightened to speak up for themselves and even more hesitant to let someone do it for them. The very thought of it frightened Yakko – in a way, he might have even considered it his worst nightmare. Then he thought of Wakko and Dot possibly only blocks away, hauled up and telling themselves tirelessly that they would all see each other again – something that was starting to seem more ambivalent like wishtful thinking by the minute. Every second seemed to intensify now with possibilities. With his mind trailing back to the days before, Yakko remembered what Dot had said – that her brother was all talk in no action. Now, for the first time in quite awhile, Yakko wanted to act more than ever before; the only issue was that his fear was getting in the way.

"Yakko?' Marvin said. "Your vote?"

Yakko blinked. He realized that Bonkers and Marvin had reached a line of indifference after voting and seemed to have settled on him for a decision.

"I'm half and half," Yakko said quietly after a moment.

"Then that's one and a half against one," Marvin said simply. "My condolences, Bonkers"

"Yeah, well, don't say I didn't warn you…"

Yakko and Bonkers sat there in the silence as the Martian walked away toward the liquor vault, the megaphone slung under his arm with casual indifference. There was a long moment after the door opened and shut that neither of them spoke.

Then, throughout every nook and cranny of Guardino Heights, the megaphone's whine blew loud and clear on the rooftop.


	10. Chapter 10

"I'm the king of the world!" Daggett cried out to the ocean with his arms outstretched.

"We heard you the first time, _broh-there_ of mine," Norb said briskly as he pulled out an empty bottle from behind his back. "Now when you're done winning your Oscar over there, come and _help_!"

The sky was overcast and the water was brushing up the dock's pegs like a flooding basin. White caps were swirling further out, and every time they churned they seemed to blow in a new gust of salt air at the three on the dock. While Norb and Dot were occupied with their work and sitting alongside each other, Daggett was standing at the edge of the dock with his lanky arms outstretched to the sea: a pose that he saw as impressive and the others saw as a bad joke with even worse timing. The air was chilly now and the heat wave that had chastised the city since late morning was starting to pass.

Dot smirked down at the note the beaver was writing. "Nice handwriting."

"Hey, cut the doc some slack!" Norb said with a laugh. "He's working with what he's got!"

The two of them had busied themselves in the passing hours with an idea that had sounded good in theory, but had really turned out to be more of a waste of time than anything else. Lain out across the wooden planks were at least seventy bottles that twinkled in the afternoon light like emerald, each one encasing a small scrap of paper. Dot and Norb had spent most of the last several hours writing letters that they would subsequently slip into the bottles after.

While at first the growing amount of bottles had made Dot feel invigorated, awed by the fabled idea of a fisherman catching one in a net, the ever present idea of the whole thing being for naught had tugged at her heart. It wasn't difficult to picture all the bottles floating off in the ocean like a long stretch of purgatory, left alone to bob for a lifespan that would outlast Dot Warner herself. Despite it all however, she pushed those thoughts away. The bottles would work. They had to. It wouldn't have been right if they didn't.

Brimming with newfound anger at the idea, Dot pushed to hard on the leaflet of paper and snapped her pencil. Letting out a resigned sigh, she reached behind her back and protruded a pocketknife; she proceeded to carve it up the tip of her pencil.

Norb, looking over, seemed to find this amusing.

"What, were you in the marines or something?" he asked.

"No, but I did grow up with two older brothers," Dot sighed. "You have to learn to survive after awhile. You really think this is going to work, Norb? I mean, I thought the whole message in the bottle thing only worked in _stories_."

Norb shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned Dot, this is a story. Or at least it's going to be once we get out of here." He called over to his brother: "Ready _Dag-a-lag-a-ding-dong_?"

Daggett turned and smiled. "Right on the money, Norby!"

Dot watched with mild amusement as Norb began to throw the bottles by the armful into Daggett's mouth at a rapid pace. The routine went on for roughly a minute before Daggett's cheeks had bloated to the size of bowling balls; he flashed Dot a sharp-toothed smile just after Norb chucked in the final bottle. Spitting into his black, webbed hands for good measure beforehand, Norb then gripped his brother's tail like a lever and began to spit it in a blinding whirlwind – _faster and faster_. The bottles went shooting out of the younger beaver's mouth with machine gun rapidity until they were completely lost from view over the ocean's horizon line.

There was a moment of reflective silence as the three watched their handiwork vanish into the distance. The last bottle seemed to linger like a flick of green held up in the sky before it fell down into the ocean miles ahead.

The silence went on for a moment longer. Then -

"Well, why aren't they here yet?" Daggett snapped as he wiped his lips.

"No idea," Norb said dryly. He hadn't stopped looking at the ocean. "Maybe they're rescuing those other hundred people being hunted a few miles down shore."

Daggett glared. "You know, try a little harder and I might say you're being sarcastic!"

"Try a little harder and I might say you're trying to be macho!"

"Well, who says I'm not, hotshot!" Daggett snapped. "Maybe you're just under-ees-tomahting me! Heck, for all you know maybe I could be the guy to get us all out of here! Maybe I could go dive in there and flag down a boat! Maybe I could swim out there and get _help_!"

"What?" Norb asked. "Mom packed your floaties after all?"

Daggett glared and took a step forward. "You want to talk that _back_?"

"Seriously," Dot sighed, feeling an oncoming headache. "Can you guys do nothing else but _fight_?"

"Nah, we can sing and dance too but that'll cost you extra," Norb said simply.

"Who's _that_ note for?" Daggett asked with interest.

Daggett was indicating the lone note that Dot had placed aside from the ones that they had fired out to sea. She had been in the process of sticking it to a post on the dock when he'd noticed. While she offered him a weak smile in response, Dot found herself silently cursing the beaver for seeing the note that she had specifically set aside for her brothers.

If there was one topic that that Dot had no interest in discussing with Norbert or Daggett, it was Yakko and Wakko. Part of the issue was that it would probably lead to them seeing her as a weak and clingy, but most of the problem resided in the solemn fact that the beavers reminded Dot eerily of her brothers. Norb's calm and cool demeanor almost seemed to channel Yakko whilst Daggett's neurotic behavior and quirky mannerisms took after Wakko. When the two brothers argued, Dot felt oddly homesick. The last thing she needed was to lament her family issues to the two strangers to make things even worse.

"My brothers," Dot replied quietly. She couldn't think of a good lie. "I've been leaving them at every block so they can get directions of where to go to meet up with us."

"Hansel and Gretel left breadcrumbs," Norb pointed out.

"Yeah, well, look how great that turned out for them," Dot sighed.

She turned away from the two for a moment, closing her eyes as the sea wind blew at her fur. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that a lone message in a bottle that Daggett hadn't torpedoed out into oblivion was sitting beside her feet on the dock. Brimming with energy and devoid of anyone or anything to take it out on, Dot bent down, gripped the bottle, and let out a shrill cry as she broke into a toon spin. She whirled for a few moments before coming to a sudden halt; she released the bottle and watched as it flew out across the gray sky. It seemed to linger between the ocean and horizon before vanishing completely.

Norb seemed to be impressed. "Nice arm."

"I have my moments," Dot sighed. She paused wistfully for a moment before looking back at them. "You guys want to get a move on then?"

* * *

Dot Warner was no stranger to boys. Having seen them as disgusting when she was a little girl and coming to learn that the good ones were in the minority as she got older, Dot prided herself in being able to judge a book by its cover. She'd learned over the years how to size them up; you could usually tell within the first few minutes of the date what they wanted. Some simply wanted a good time and Dot would be inclined to comply as long as it didn't go too far. Others seemed interested in settling down for a more long-term relationship, and, for more than a fair amount of reasons, Dot would politely pay for the drinks and leave it as a one-night stand.

If there was one similarity that all those boys had in common however, it was that they left you to figure them out. Through their comments, the way they danced, and even the ways their eyes moved, they let you to decipher how they felt about you. A guy would never openly show he was in love with you – at least not right away.

Dot had been a firm believer in all of that until she met Daggett Beaver.

Part hopeless romantic and part hyperactive nitwit, Daggett had seemed to have made it his sole ambition to help Dot in any way he could. He walked alongside her wherever she went, chattering away and getting close enough for Dot to know that he had, at best, a nodding acquaintance with deodorant. He would continually pester her with questions, asking if the sun was in her eyes or if her feet were getting tired; the later comment bordered on hypocritical, considering how Daggett himself would plead to stop every few blocks to catch his breathe.

When he wasn't resting, Daggett would ramble on about the things that interested him: aliens, government conspiracies, how great of a show Animaniacs had been, breakfast cereal, and, most typically, his work.

Although unemployed by legal definition, Dot could gather that Daggett made scrapings of cash through writing screenplays for strange horror movies that he would later enter in contests. It didn't seem to be enough to making a living off of, and it seemed to Dot like Daggett wouldn't even have had the funds to write his stories if he hadn't been using Norb as a safety blanket. The stories in question were all very odd and always seemed to end with either the main character being a vampire or a ghost since the very beginning.

Daggett was particularly proud of a script he'd written about a series of disappearances centered around a shady Italian restaurant. The case in question had been investigated by a gruff beaver detective, and the climax had arrived when the same beaver had sunk his fork into a plate of the restaurant's spaghetti and protruded an eyeball; at this point, it would have been revealed the missing people had been used as the main ingredient for the restaurant's secret sauce. The working title was, "Cannibals and Canolis."

"I just thought it would be a good story," Daggett had explained to her as they walked. "Plus, well, I like Italian food. Hey, maybe you can play the lead once a studio picks it up!"

At this point, Norb had given a quiet cough behind them clearly meant to indicate sarcasm. He had remained silent for most of the hike, trailing behind the two and only chiming in to suggest going down a different street or alleyway. It was strange to Dot, especially how it had been difficult before to get him to shut up.

When it came down to it, neither of the brothers were exactly stellar company in Dot's eyes. While Daggett was overly perky and clingy, Norb had the habit of over thinking things to the point where he made her head hurt; there were times when he would even ramble off-topic more than his brother. If forced to compare the two however, Dot would have quietly admitted that she liked the blonde beaver better; not because he was handsome and a good listener, but for the fact of how Dot had never met anyone quite like him. Optimistic and laidback even in their dire circumstances, Dot was met with a silent kind of fascination when she was around him. Norb, in ways both good and bad, was everything that Dot knew she wasn't.

The three of them reached an agreement about half an hour into their walk that none of them wanted to keep moving on an empty stomach. They resigned their trek to an alleyway relatively hidden from the streets, chaperoned by rusty dumpsters and glass that twinkled on the ground like icing sugar. It wasn't the most sanitary place to eat, but it was safe and convenient. The three of them sat down on a crooked bench that someone had discarded ages ago.

Pulling out a granola bar from behind her back, Dot wasn't shocked whatsoever at who bustled over to sit down beside her.

"You want to split a pepperoni and marshmallow sandwich with me?" Daggett asked with a sharp-toothed smile.

He was holding what looked like dripping sponge wrapped untidily in cellophane. The plastic was stained with orange grease. While pulling decent food was certainly an acquired skill for most toons, Dot had the feeling that there were homeless toons on the streets of downtown Burbank who were capable of better than what Daggett was holding out in front of her.

"I don't think it's in my diet plan," Dot said shortly. She paused thoughtfully for a moment. "I think you'd get along with my brother though..."

"Your loss then," Daggett said simply and Dot tried her best not to cringe as he gulped the thing down in one bite. "So, uh, you grew up on the Warner lot?""

"I _still_ live there," Dot said curtly. "Well, _sort of_. It's complicated."

She didn't have any interesting in recounting how her older brother had essentially rendered them homeless over a matter of days; she had thought too much about the ordeal already. Dot's eyes drifted quietly over to Norb, hoping that he would say something to end their dismal conversation. As it turned out, Norb didn't seem to be up for talking about much of anything. He was occupied over a small dish of sushi on his lap and gazing out into space, listening to Daggett talk but not bothering to cut him off. His lips were pursed and it seemed to Dot like he was struggling not to lose his patience over something.

"I'll bet," Daggett said solemnly. He paused for a moment. "You know, it's not easy…"

Dot stared at him. "Um, _what's_ not?"

"Being the _younges_t. I mean, you could have one brother or a hundred and twelve and it wouldn't make a difference."

"I thought middle child syndrome was the bad one…"

Daggett rolled his eyes. "Syndrome _shmndrome_! When you're the kid in the family, you're the kid for life. It really bites to be the little one in the family: _the youngest_. Y'know what I mean?"

"Dag, you were only born _two_ minutes after me…" Norb sighed, turning over and wiping a speck of sushi from his mouth. It seemed to Dot like he'd lost all willingness to let his brother go on.

His brother didn't take the comment lightly.

"Well, go and be a killjoy then, Norb!" Daggett cried. "At least let me strike up a conversation with the chick! Who said I was talking to you anyway, huh?"

"You're talking next to me," Norb said simply. "That's the same thing."

"Choke on your dead fish, tightwad!"

"_Pourriez-vous dire que nouveau_?"

"And cut the _French_!" Daggett cried. "You're not French, I'm not French, and we don't know anyone who speaks French, _so stop it_!"

Dot watched as Daggett got up and stormed off in a huff, his fists clenched as he retreated to the other side of the alley. The mood suddenly felt tense, almost the awkward wake of witnessing an argument at a friend's dinner table. Dot shifted her eyes cautiously over to Norb and saw he was picking idly at his sushi with a pair of chopsticks. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring at nothing in particular as if he had retreated into his thoughts. Dot decided she wasn't prepared to allow the tension to go on any longer.

"I can't believe you can actually stomach that stuff," Dot said, smirking down at his lunch.

"It's a work in progress," Norb said with a weak smile. His face became solemn as he glanced up to look at her. "Hey, you mind if I ask you something, Dot?"

"Fire away"

"Do you find my brother…_annoying_?"

The words seemed to shove her under the spotlight.

"Oh, come on!" Norb said after a short silence. "It's not like it's a million dollar question. Whaddya think of the kid?"

"He's _fine_," Dot said stiffly. She couldn't help but notice the waver of uncertainty in her voice. "No, I like him just fine…"

Norb's eyes narrowed. "You know, I haven't lied to you yet about anything..."

"I guess he's a little…_different_."

"Eh, I had a feeling," Norb said dismissively. The sad smile had returned to his face. "I mean, you have to give the guy credit; he doesn't mean to go and rub off on people the wrong way. He just wants you to like him, y'know? It's something I've seen a million times before. He just ends up trying too hard. A lot of people think it embarrasses me, y'know. Lots of people look at the pair of us and think I should cut ties with the guy while I still can. I've had people tell me that to my _face_." Norb's face shifted into a dark glance. It was the first time Dot had seen him mildly angry about anything. "I _hate _those people, Dot. I really do."

"Brotherly love, I guess," Dot replied quietly. She ended up feeling sorry the moment she said it; she started to wonder if it was worth it to leave another message in the alley.

"Guess that's one way to look at it," Norb said with a shrug. "Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you did me a _fave-voir _here and turned a blind eye if the guy starts acting up or anything. You can think whatever you want of Dag. Heck, you can think whatever you want of _me_ too for all I care. Just keep it to yourself, okay? I just don't want this vacation from hell here to be high school revisited for the little chatterbox. I mean, with the amount of teeth I lost sticking up for him in those four years, the fairy could have written me a _check_." He paused. "And that's not even counting what those dumb kids at the studio did to him…"

Dot smiled softly. "Speaking of teeth, you've got some sushi on –"

"Taken care of," Norb said as he wiped his mouth. He smiled back at her and his demeanor brightened up considerably. "Anyway, that's not like saying I have to cash some tooth fairy's money anyway! When we get out of here, I'll be so happy to live that I'll enter every lotto in California! _Viva la vida_!"

Dot eyed him wearily. "You really think we're getting out of here, Norb?

"Well, why _shouldn't_ we? If they can dream a way to get us in here, well, it's only fair for us to take the time and dream a way out, right?

"That's one way of looking at it…"

"Hey, if something's broken, there's a way to put it back together!" Norb said brightly. "If we're the mice, well, all we've got to do is get through the maze and find the cheese." He gestured out his half-eaten tray of sushi to her. "You sure you don't want any of this _stuff_? Once you get past the fact that you're eating dead fish, it's really not that –

Dot's eyes went wide. "Norbert!"

It all happened so fast. Norb had sat up from his seat with his tray just as Dot realized what had been sprawled across the alleyway all along: something that had been shrouded in the darkness and something they had been incredibly fortunate not to step on earlier. It was within the split second that Norb got up that Dot took notice of the long expanse of net lain out on the ground like an antique booby trap: the same stretch of net that Norb's foot was now only inches away from him.

Dot leapt up as a first instinct and dove forward, seizing the beaver around the neck and accidentally sending them tumbling downward. There was a sound akin to thick hands being scourged with rope burn as the net bonded the two of them like the catch of the day.

"_Dot_!"

The next thing Dot knew she was hovering inside a net fifteen feet in the air with Norb, her face speckled with fragments of fallen sushi as she struggled for room.

"I guess you didn't consider _mouse traps _in that maze of yours, huh?" Dot spat as she pushed Norb's head out of the way.

"No," Norb shot back. "But I'll _consider_ things a lot easier when you get your foot off my _gut_!"

"I'll live a lot easier when you stop breathing your _dead fish _in my _face_!"

A new voice entered the scuffle:

"Well, what do y'know!'

The two captives managed to turn at odd angles to see Daggett standing off on the other side of the alley, his arms arced triumphantly at his side and looking up with a sharp-toothed smile. Dot had the malicious feeling that he found the whole thing hilarious.

"Aw, how cute!" Daggett cried. "A couple of lovebirds! Is this how they propose in _France_, Norb?"

"Cool it, Daggett!" Norb called down. "C'mon, reach behind your back and toss me a knife or something to cut us _out! _This might be a trap and -"

That was when Dot registered the rattling noise: almost like the muffled sound of a battering typewriter. She turned just in time to see the ugly snout of the shaking rifle poking its way out of the window just across from the net, gleaming in the sunlight like her life flashing before her eyes. Dot's blood ran cold but her fear subsided when she caught sight of the eyes hiding behind the rifle in the window: eyes that seemed more terrified than they did hostile. They were more of a hint to give away who it was than the tattered mop of sweaty, purple fur hanging down over her face.

"Oh," Fifi LeFume sighed. "It's just you…"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Fifi was leading them up the ancient stairs of a dilapidated apartment building. The place had clearly not had the lightest acquaintance with air conditioning; with each rising floor, the heat seemed to intensify like a sauna until it felt to Dot like she was on an uphill trek to the center of the earth.

With Fifi leading the way and the brothers trailing behind her, Dot wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and glanced into various rooms they passed at each landing. Most of the apartment doorways had deteriorated over time, either leaving slabs pampered with vulgar graffiti or rusty hinges that gave way to foyers or kitchens. Most of the rooms were in a state of disarray, almost like they had been recently searched; it was an idea that left Dot with a quiet twinge of anger, furious at the idea of the soldiers stripping the rooms prior to their arrival in search of anything that could have been of use to them.

"Housekeeping much?" Dot called out at the sight of a rat rushing by her feet.

"The maid's coming next week," Fifi said wearily. She didn't even seem to process that Dot was being sarcastic and the dryness in her voice frightened her. "Plus, you could consider us an odd couple. If I cleaned anything, I'd be doing it _alone_."

"Wait, there's _two_ of you here?" Daggett asked. Dot couldn't help but feel unnerved at the hint of eagerness in his voice.

Daggett's inquiry was answered shortly after when they reached the door to the penthouse apartment: a gross exaggeration to Dot seeing how the phrase made the tenement building sound like a five-star suite. They filed hastily into a gloomy room and were met with a cool blast of air; it took a moment to see that it was coming from a makeshift air conditioner in the corner, choppy-looking with the appearance of being constructed from hammerspace. The place they had entered was a living room with a moldy sofa acting as a centerpiece, chaperoned by purposeless junk like coat racks and mattress spring boards; it seemed almost like a spring cleaning that time had forgot. A doorway sat to the left leading into the kitchen and a hallway stretched on, leading to a handful of bedrooms that Dot didn't feel much of an urge to see. It was a complete and utter dump, but Fifi had managed to turn it into a throwaway shelter.

"Not too shabby," Dot said, turning to her friend with a small smile. It quickly faltered when she failed to receive one in return.

What she did receive, however, was a shrill and all too familiar voice that echoed out of the hallway:

"Is that my _father_? Is that the _rescue squad_? Are they here, Feef? Tell them to wait a second, all right! I'm just washing up!"

"Oh God," Dot moaned.

Norb turned to her. "Who's _that_?"

"Find some earplugs. Quick."

Considering their coupled luck in misfortune in running into familiar faces, Dot was met with a wave of stupidity that she hadn't seen the owner of the voice being the next in line; part of it was selective thinking, choosing to block out the small things that annoyed her to concentrate on larger problems. In the end however, Dot would have gladly preferred for the earth to swallow her up on the spot than have to deal with the voice's owner as she stepped out of the hallway.

"You know, I _really_ don't see what took you so long," Shirley McLoon said rapidly as she stepped out into the living room. She seemed to be speaking unto herself and barely seemed to notice the others. "I mean, really, when someone goes missing, you should be less busy with your damn paperwork and a little more into – I don't know – _finding her_! I could be a skeleton by now, and trust me, my father would have had more than a little to say about that!" It was at that moment that she locked eyes on Dot. "Dot, you're here! The rescue guys saved _you too_?"

Dot glanced wearily at her old classmate. Although adorned in her recognizable attire from her show like the rest of them, Shirley's face was splotched with facial creams like she was bathed in sunscreen at the beach; it took Dot a moment to realize that the loon had in the bathroom tending to her precious face. While the ridiculousness of it appalled Dot at first, she soon found herself oddly disturbed by the concept: Shirley McLoon lost in a bad situation for the first time, resorting to trivial routines from back home to make her feel safe; Shirley McLoon in the bathroom, pampering her face almost like the familiarity was a sign that things would turn out alright. Dot searched her mind thinking back to where her distaste for the girl had blossomed. It could have been at school, where Dot had been uniquely stubborn in refusing to put up with any of Shirley's stupid gossip. It could have been when Yakko had sunk to a new low and dated her in a fiasco that Dot felt said a great deal about her brother in particular.

Seeing her now was almost like a final crude jab at her situation: the icing on the cake for everything that had happened so far. In the end, Dot couldn't say she was surprised.

"Sure did," Dot replied sourly. "And I'm starting to regret it…"

"They're not the rescue squad, Shirley," Fifi said softly. "I found them outside in the net we set up earlier. I…I told you it would be a good idea…"

"To tell you the truth, it was kind of lame," Daggett suddenly cut in. Everyone turned to look at him. "I saw this one sick movie last weekend where these girls went to a cheerleading competition and all these zombies showed up from the cemetery next door because they did this Voodoo chant! Then, um, there was this one part where they trapped the zombies in a net trap – I mean, kind of like you did - and flung them off a cliff!" His eyes suddenly went very wide like he'd realized that he'd said something wrong. "But, I mean, I don't mean to put _you _guys down! I mean, _um,_ you did a really good job _too_! Best net I've ever seen!"

The awkward silence in the room afterwards was so thick that they were practically drowning in it. Dot noticed in the corner of her eye that Norb had put his hands to his face in exasperation.

Shirley eyed the beaver coldly. "I'm sorry, but who the _hell_ are you?"

"Daggett Beaver."

"Well _Daggett_, unless you know how to get out of here, I'd appreciate it if you shut your pie hole and stopped spewing nonsense! There's people here who have real problems to deal with!" She turned to the skunk. "Call me when my father gets here, Feef!"

With Shirley turned and stormed out of the roof in a huff. Dot noticed uneasily that Fifi was trembling, almost like a small dog left out in the rain; hints of tears were flashing in her eyes. Dot's mind drifted back to the hotel earlier, thinking of how Yakko had consoled her, and wondered if she'd looked similar to how Fifi looked now. Then, realizing she'd broken her mental oath concerning her brothers, she struggled to push the thought away. _Don't think about them. Don't make it worse for yourself. Don't think about them until you find them…_

"I'm really sorry," Fifi said quietly. Her willingness to finally speak casually made the world to Dot. "She's not always like that."

"What?" Dot asked. "Sometimes she's _nice_?"

"No," Fifi sighed. "Sometimes she's _mean._ You haven't seen anything yet. It's gotten a lot worse since she left the lot. She just doesn't really get that somewhere out there in the world right now, other people might be having problems too. Hell, it's gotten even _worse_ since we got _here_. If I hear one more thing about her daddy and mommy ruing the day she went missing, I'll…I'll…"

Dot raised an eyebrow. "You'll what?"

"Probably do nothing," Fifi sighed. "It's all I've done since I got here anyway…"

"Fifi, _your hands_!"

Dot had noticed that Fifi's hands were scourged lightly with burn wounds. She shrunk away slightly when Dot noticed, almost struggling to hide the sight of it.

"I tried cooking pasta on the stove," Fifi blabbered. "I thought it would make things a little better – make them a little more normal, y'know? I…I figured the pasta would do _that_. Then the fire came and _I thought…I thought…"_

Dot eyed her worriedly. "You all right, Fifi?"

"Remember how I said I could take care of myself, Dot?" Fifi whimpered. "I was…_wrong_!"

And with that Fifi collapsed into Dot sobbing. She turned around uneasily with the skunk in her arms, catching a glimpse of the brothers behind her. Daggett's jaw was hanging open in shock while Norb maintained the typical strange, sad smile on his face; the sight of it was unnerving enough to get her to look away and turn back to her friend.

"We're going to be all right here, Fifi," Dot sighed, hardly even believing what was coming out of her mouth. "But you're going to have to work with me though, all right?"

"Things were going so well, though," Fifi said with a sniffle. "I was holding a steady job at the diner and the manager…he never yelled at me when I brought out the wrong orders. Some of the guys that stopped by in the morning were starting to give me…_nice tips_ too. I was even going to get back into _acting_…"

Dot struggled to console the whimpering skunk in her arms. It wasn't long before the tears started to frighten her, almost like any bond between the two of them was unsavory territory. She gave Fifi a squeeze before backing away from her, leaving her to sniffle and resign to settle herself down on the sofa.

Dot spotted Norb in the corner of her eye now; he'd retreated to the glass window of the penthouse apartment, draped with grimy curtains and overlooking the ocean that lay out blocks in front of it. It seemed only natural that something was up.

"What's up with you?" Dot whispered as she walked up to him.

Norb turned and stared. "_Huh_?"

"I mean, you haven't rambled in a foreign language for at least ten minutes. What? You think you know a way out of here? Don't hold back! Lay it on me!"

"Trust me Dot," Norb sighed. His sad smile was starting to anger her more than ever. "If you want to get out of here with your limbs intact, listening to anything I say is a bad, bad, bad, mucho _negativo_ idea. Half of the time there's not even any truth in it…"

"_No truth_?" Dot shot back. "Well, what else have you been _lying_ to me about then? What, did you just pull being a _doctor_ out of your ass?"

"No," Norb replied simply. "But I pull out philosophy all the time." He turned around when something caught his eye. "What are you doing, Dag?"

Dot turned to see that Daggett had sat down on the sofa beside a rather stoic Fifi and protruded a handheld video camera from behind his back. The sound of metallic whirring echoed from the camera as he scanned it across the room like a radar, capturing a long shot of the room with a stupid grin on his face.

"I figured I'd do what I can to help out," Daggett said proudly as he aimed the camera toward them. "Sort of go for a documentary style thing, y'know? I'll sell it to a news agency when this is all through! I'm thinking, "Toons Versus Humans: A DB Film!"

"I Market and Exploit People Dying For Money: A Daggett Beaver Film," Norb said with an eye roll. "Grow up, Daggy."

"Ah, can it, Norb!" Daggett spat as he clicked off the record button.

Dot shuffled uncomfortably but couldn't hide the fact that she felt some honest truth in what Daggett was doing; it may not have been his intention, but capturing footage of what was going on may have ended up being the only substantial proof that what had befallen them was even happening. She thought grimly how they had all been cleanly removed from their lives, almost like faces cut out of a magazine. If they were all going to go down – a thought that Dot found herself challenging the moment it came to her – it only seemed right to bow out knowing that the truth had gotten out. It was the kind of thing that would have infuriated Yakko; then she remembered solemnly that her brother probably wouldn't have done anything about it anyway.

"Have you run into anyone, Fifi?" Dot asked, turning to her friend. She felt quietly desperate to push her thoughts away.

"A few heads here and there," Fifi replied shortly. "People hiding around corners but nobody that walked up to us to say anything – or do anything. I guess you can say we weren't the unlucky ones here."

"The Titanic was _unlucky_," Shirley said coldly as she stormed back into the room. "This is a disaster."

She was now carrying a pink cell phone that for some reason hadn't been confiscated from her upon arrival; either that, or she had simply protruded it out of hammerspace. Dot watched with mild amusement as Shirley busily dialed numbers and held the phone to her ear, knowing grudgingly all the while that she wasn't going to get any reception.

"Y'know, call me crazy but I don't think that's going to work…" Norb said dryly.

"Oh, quiet _you_!" Shirley snapped. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, flipping the phone shut and tossing it behind her back. "Well, this is great – just great! They don't even let a gal put a call through to her father! It's not fair! I mean, I know they're bad people but they could have at least made this _fair_ for us!"

"It's an extermination, Barbie," Dot said simply. "It's not supposed to be fair."

"An extermination's for bugs," Daggett said.

Dot shrugged. "Doesn't make a difference to them."

"I hate bugs," Shirley said. "They're gross." She took out her phone and began to dial a string of numbers again. "You know, I wonder what my father's going to do when he finds out what's happened here. I'm guessing the electric chair's going to be where those bozos are headed once our lawyer's through with them. " She paused thoughtfully. "I wonder what he'll do when he finds out I'm _gone_…"

"Probably buy another one of you," Dot said idly. It was a dry comment that had come out without any thought behind it. She even felt a trace of regret after she said it.

Fifi's eyes went wide. "Dot!"

"What?" Dot said, too fed up with Shirley's antics to care. "Her dad owns half of the clubs in Burbank! I'm only speaking logically here!"

Shirley glared. "At least I _have_ a father."

The comment hung heavily in the air and Dot nearly felt her blood boil; beneath the anger however, it felt more of a stab to her heart than anything else. A long, hurtful silence ensued. Dot felt the others waiting for a response and looked away shiftily, unsure of what to say and painfully wishing Yakko or Wakko had been there to hear Shirley's comment. It should have been something she was used to, considering how most of the toons back on the lot had been in the same boat as her, but Dot knew solemnly that something made she and her siblings different; whether voluntarily or not, they had gone against every rule of a traditional family and raised each other. The idea of a parent almost seemed almost ghostly to her and – although Dot would never admit it – it even made her a little sad.

"That was a low blow," Dot said finally with a glare.

"A low blow for a low girl," Shirley said with a sly wink. "If you need me, I'll be trying to get reception."

Dot clenched her fists as Shirley strutted out of the room with her cell phone again. She tried to take a step forward and was rather surprised when the person standing beside her held her back.

"What's the deal?" Dot whispered harshly to Norb.

"Forget it," Norb sighed. "Just try to keep your patience around her. Some people will try to keep pretending things are going to be fine even when Armageddon's here."

"It's not going to be Armageddon," Dot said simply. "Especially if I have anything to say about it."

She parted past him and walked to the window alone, almost in an offbeat effort to blow off steam. Dot looked out across the ocean and stared at the white caps swirling, thinking about all the water constantly changing, never settling down to remain the same; the thought comforted her for some odd reason and she found her anger from Shirley's comment drifting away. Consciously aware that the rest of the room was still staring at her, Dot began to speak slowly, only half-aware of what she was even saying.

"You know, I've only been to the beach once," Dot began as she stared out the window. She couldn't tell if she was speaking to herself or the others. "I'm a Californian and I've only seen the ocean once. That's got to be illegal or something…"

"I remember that!" Fifi said. Although Dot didn't look, it sounded like she'd sat up. "It was that trip the studio gave all of us. It was the trip where you got into the fight with that kid, right?"

"You got into a fight?" Daggett said excitedly. "What'd you do? Clobber him?"

A scuffle of footsteps from the hallway made Dot realize that Shirley had entered the room again, struggling to get reception with her useless cell phone.

"It wasn't a fight," Shirley said with an eye roll. "It was a damn near assault. You'd think a girl in show business would have the sense not to embarrass herself in public."

"Public schmublic," Dot said briskly. She hadn't stopped looking out the window "Call it assault or whatever you want. It doesn't help sugarcoat it."

"What happened?" Daggett asked.

"It was this trip they gave us to thank us for all of our hard work and stuff," Dot went on. "The real truth is that they were renovating half the buildings on the lot and they wanted us gone for the weekend, but that's beside the point. Most of us jumped at the chance. We'd spent most of our lives in the same block of city that just the idea of going next door to Pasadena or something was like a leap to the moon. So we all went and headed to the beach."

"I was with you when it happened," Fifi said. "I remember it like it was yesterday."

"I guess it seems like yesterday, huh?" Dot said with a weak smile. "You're right though. We were walking around trying to find everyone else when these toons started following us – really scummy people, y'know? Mostly street kids that grew up around the shore towns. I think one of them recognized me from our show because he started whispering to the others and they all started edging toward us. We tried walking fast but they seemed pretty bent on catching up."

Norb seemed intrigued. "What happened?"

"They cornered us by the fairgrounds and tried flirting with us. We tried shoving them off to be nice at first but they just kept pressing on – then it got bad. It was in broad daylight but there were so many people there. We couldn't even see anyone we knew…"

"What a bunch of creeps!" Daggett cried. "I'd have done something if I were there, y'know!"

"Yeah, film it and hope it's raw enough to win you an Oscar," Norb said. He rolled his eyes. "Keep going, Dot."

"Anyway, it wasn't long before it started getting too much. One of them kept nudging his arm up against me. I told him to back off but I guess that egged him on even more. He tried to grab me so I twisted his arm – hard. I didn't mean to but I guess I just got angry. I get angry when people don't expect me to bite back. I just remember getting angrier and angrier. Then the next thing I know, the kid's lying ten feet away and I'm holding a mallet. My big brother picked me up from the station later. Everyone sort of agreed not to talk about it…"

A long silence hung in the air afterwards.

"Never hit a girl, huh?" Norb said with a short smile.

"I don't mean it," Dot said quietly. "I mean, I'm not a _psycho_ or anything. I don't get up wanting to get something to be mad at. I just don't like when people think less of me. It makes me feel like I have to do something." She paused for a moment before turning back to the others with a weak laugh. "I guess I'm feeling a lot of that right now, huh?"

"Well, if you're going to do something now then leave me out of it," Shirley said stiffly. "I have enough problems to deal with. I don't need to get dragged into being a _terrorist_."

"Shirley, these people tricked you," Fifi said exasperatedly. "They _kidnapped _you, drugged you, are currently trying to _hunt_ you, and you're saying getting back at them is a bad thing?"

"I don't know what to think, all right Feef?" Shirley cried. It seemed to Dot like Fifi had unknowingly just struck a nerve. "Nice girls don't think about things like that! Normal people don't either! Normal people shouldn't think so much about those things!"

Norb raised an eyebrow. "You're calling yourself _norma_l?"

Shirley glared. "I think that's cutting it pretty close to the truth! What, do you think I'm crazy or something?"

"I happen to _be_ crazy," Norb said with narrowed eyes. "It's more fun, healthier, and you get to live longer. I'm not going to speak for anyone else here, but I think if I was normal, I wouldn't be sitting here with poison pumping through my veins and dying in such great company."

Dot eyed him curiously. "What're you getting at, Norb?"

"I'm saying that they picked us all to come here for a _reason_," Norb went on. "It wasn't a lottery. We were _selected_. I'm not saying it's the same reason for all of us, but I think we'd understand each other a lot better if we started looking at what we have in common instead of who's daddy can buy out Burbank and who's _can't_."

"He only owns seven lots," Shirley muttered under her breath. Everyone heard but decided to let the comment go under the radar.

"We were all in show business," Fifi pointed out. "In some way or another, we all were."

"True," Norb said. "And we were all past our prime too…"

Dot's mind drifted back to the hotel earlier, thinking of the long table of toons' faces: some recognizable and some not. She thought of someone going through a phone book, resting their finger at names before dialing a string of numbers or filling out a letter. The idea unnerved her but it didn't last very long – she quickly found a detail that made Norb's thesis not add up.

"That's not true, though," Dot said confusedly. "My friend…I mean, this cat named Rita that I know is still in the business. She's not big but she still performs and stuff when she's in and out of rehab. Her name's still up there. We're not all washed up. It's got to be something else…"

"Rita?" Shirley cooed. "_The singer_? She's here _too_?"

Everyone ignored her.

"Maybe it's something weird," Daggett said after a moment. "Like, I don't know, our favorite _food_ or something. Mine's lasagna."

Norb smiled weakly. "Remind me to never let you be a detective, Daggett."

"All I know is that it's something I'm going to figure out," Dot said stiffly.

It was then that a thundering crash echoed from downstairs, almost like a battling ram breaking down a wall. Everyone in the room that had been sitting immediately sat up, instinctively taking a step toward the center of the room. Dot felt her blood run cold as her ears perked; she found herself vaguely aware of what sounded like a chorus of footsteps echoing up the stairs.

"What's that?" Fifi said, sitting up nervously.

An agonizing moment of silence followed. Then -

"Dag," Norb said softly. "_Please_ tell me you listened when I said lock the door on the way in…."

It was too late. There was a chilling cacophony of voices just aside the penthouse before the doorway was swarmed with at least seven soldiers, all of them clad in uniform and brandishing identical rifles. Dot watched as Shirley shrieked and dashed down the hallway, her hands flailing in the air; one of the soldiers quickly signaled her out and dashed after her, dragging her back kicking and screaming. Everything moved with a surreal sense of hyper reality as the tight apartment became overcrowded in a matter of seconds in a mess of camouflage.

"All of you on the grounds!" one of the soldier spat in an accent Dot couldn't place. "Hands on your head, hands on your hand! _Rapido, rapido_!"

"_Si senor_," Norb muttered quietly. He went down rather compliantly compared to what Dot had expected from him.

"_Oh my god_!" Fifi wailed. "_Oh my god! Oh my god_!"

There was little to no hesitance as everyone quickly lowered themselves down to the ground, their hands locked behind their heads. Dot was the last too get up, paralyzed in a cross between shock and anger. It took a rifle cocked and aimed at her face to jar her back to reality.

"_Now_," the rifle's owner ordered.

Dot shot the soldier a cold glance but could practically feel her heart pound out of her chest as she lowered herself down to the ground. She could hear Fifi sobbing behind her; between the sound of her crying and the echoing of the soldiers' footsteps beside her, it was practically enough to drive her insane.

"That's it!" the Spanish soldier barked. "All of you on the ground! Hands where we can see them!"

"Do we get our Miranda rights?" Dot called up harshly.

The soldier glanced down. "What did you say?"

"I said I'm terrified out of my mind and on the verge of pleading for mercy," Dot said matter-of-factly. "_Feel better_?"

One of the other soldiers laughed. "Look at the mouth on this one…"

"You don't scare me," Dot said simply. She knew it was only half-true but it didn't matter. If there was one victory she wasn't going to be denied, it was getting the last word in this.

"Turn the camera off," one of the other soldiers said suddenly.

Dot glanced across the floor in shock to see that Daggett was hunched over beside his brother, busily going through the footage on the video camera he'd had earlier; it seemed like he'd been filming as the soldiers dashed it into the room.

"Hold on," Daggett said briskly. His face was sweaty with fear but he seemed oddly preoccupied with his footage. "I'm just trying to make sure I got a shot of the door barging open when you-

"For God's sake you weirdo, turn the camera off!" Shirley cried.

Daggett glanced at her coldly but clicked the camera's record button on, tucking it underneath his arm and bowing his down to the ground. Dot saw Norb whisper something to him that she couldn't understand.

"You should have barricaded yourselves in," the Spanish soldier said. "It would have made it a heck of a lot harder to spot you. You have to figure that a door sitting wide open is going to attract attention. Well, which one of you was it then? Which one of you _idiotas_ left the door wide open?"

Daggett raised a feeble, trembling hand up from the floor.

The Spanish soldier smiled. "Smooth. Mind if I see that?"

He was gesturing toward the video camera tucked under Daggett's arms. While at first the beaver simply stared up with glassy eyes, almost not processing what the man was asking him to do, a hard nudge from Norb got him to comply. Dot watched coldly as the soldier bent down to retrieve the camera; he eyed it curiously for a moment before pressing a very specific button.

"You can't do that!" Daggett cried as his film was deleted. "That was my _footage_! You can't do that to my footage, damn it! It's mine!"

As ridiculous as it was, Dot found herself sharing his anger.

"What's wrong?" Dot cried. "Scared he's going to open it in theatres and let the whole world see your ugly face? We can blur it out if you want!"

"Just making sure none of this gets out," the Spanish soldier said curtly. He didn't even glance down at her. "It would be kind of a mess if the public saw what was going on here, wouldn't it? I just figured we'd save a few court cases and brush it all away." He brandished his rifle. "One click of a switch and it's all _gone_."

Dot swore under her breath as all the soldiers in the room took the comment as a signal to cock their rifles. In the back of her mind, the thoughts of her brothers somehow found a way to drift in again; against her morals, it suddenly made her want to cry. Dot usually didn't allow herself to cry and, against her better judgment, it usually found a way to happen.

"Please," Fifi whimpered beside her. _"Don't do this…"_

"I want to go home!" Shirley cried. "I don't want to be here for Christ's sake! Let go of me! Get your hands off of me! I don't deserve _this_!"

"Strip the place for any more of them," the Spanish soldier said to another standing beside him

Dot watched as the feet of one of the other soldiers scurried out of the room and down the hallway. Craning her neck ever so slightly, she glanced up at the soldier standing directly above her: a pimply-faced kid not much older than her, probably fresh out of high school. His face was lathered in sweat and his eyes scanned beadily across the room. With a quick sideways glance at the others, Dot decided to take a chance.

"Look, you could just let us go scotch free," she whispered harshly. "If you see us again, shoot us for all we're worth. Just give us a second chance, _all right_?"

The soldier glanced down at her painfully. "You think I want to be here any more than you do?"

Dot couldn't hide the fact that she was astounded. "_What_?"

"The whole place is dry," the soldier said as he returned from the hallway. "They're the only ones in here."

"A school of five then" the Spanish soldier said with a smirk. "Not bad for a first catch."

"Oh, get a trophy why don't you…" Norb muttered from the ground.

The Spanish soldier glared down. "_Que_?"

"He said you caught us when we were down," Dot said harshly. "Don't be so full of yourself. "

The Spanish soldier smirked. "What're you going to do? Whack me in the face with a mallet?

"Please, why would I want to improve your _looks_?

A part of Dot was pleased to see that she'd succeeded in hurting the soldier's confidence; he frowned and bit his lip, glancing nervously from side-to-side. It only lasted a minute, but it acted aptly enough as a sign of weakness. Dot quietly wondered what Yakko would think. Then she wondered if she'd ever see or Wakko him again.

"Some people always need the last word, you know," the Spanish soldier sighed. His smile had quickly returned to his face. "It gives them a feeling that they did something worthwhile: something that's going to last even when they're not around to talk anymore. You can talk at me all you want. It's not going to change where you're heading…"

"At least it's not the same place you people are," Dot shot back.

"Wish I could be the judge of that!" the Spanish soldier laughed. "Well, let's not hold it up any longer. Who wants to go _first_?"

"Play it cool," Dot whispered to Fifi.

"Easy for you to say…" Fifi whimpered back.

"Don't hurt me!" Shirley shrieked. "Don't hurt me _first_!"

Dot watched with her heart pounding as the Spanish soldier rummaged through the pocket of his uniform and usurped a quarter that flashed in the gritty light of the apartment. He stared at it coolly a moment before glancing down at Norb and Daggett beside him, eyeing them like animals up for auction at a state fair. He squinted his eyes before flipping the coin in his palm, catching it swiftly and glancing down at it; it was then that he turned with a carnivorous smile to Daggett.

"_Tails_," the Spanish soldier said, angling his rifle down toward the beaver. "Looks like it's your lucky day, kiddo."

It all happened so fast:

_"Don't you dare touch him!" _Norb roared.

Dot barely had time to blink before Norb had leapt up from the ground with his teeth barred like an animal, throwing himself into the Spanish soldier. A barrage of frantic shots went off around the apartment: rifle shots that rang like the blasts of fire works as gun smoke littered the air. Spared from being a casualty as she lay on the floor, Dot gawked up in awe to see that a couple of soldiers were now sprawled out on the rug. She found herself mesmerized at the trickle of red seeping out from underneath one of their helmets. Glancing up with her heart pounding through the gun smoke, Dot saw that Norb was still in the midst of wrestling the soldier; he was shrieking out a stream of obscenities into his face that she couldn't understand.

"Nowhere near him!" Norb screamed as he struggled to hold his ground. It was all that Dot was able to make out. "_Nowhere near him_!"

"Come on," a voice hissed in Dot's ear. She turned to see it was Fifi. "Come on, _over here_."

Dot gave a weak nod before crawling across the floor after her. They crept low to the ground as a dissonance of angry yells filled the room, hiding themselves behind the sofa. Dot quickly saw that Shirley and Daggett were also there, the former trembling with tears in her eyes and the later occupied with looking at something in his hands; it took a moment for Dot to decipher that he had somehow gotten his video camera back in the scuffle. She rose up from behind the sofa like eyes skimming above water to survey the room; what she faced afterwards was a peculiar sight. Norb, at roughly a third of the soldier's height, was clinging to his helmet like a madman, refusing to let go as the screaming soldier struggled to pry him off.

The other soldiers were struggling to get a clean shot of Norb, which proved difficult as he scampered like a squirrel around the soldier's body. Littered on the ground were a handful of blunt implements that Norb had pulled out from hammerspace on the spur of the moment; among them were a baseball bat, a tire iron, and even a piggy bank. At the sight of it all however, Dot could only grudgingly hear Yakko's voice at dinner the previous night. _Toon powers can't hurt humans…_

"We have to get out of here," Dot whispered to Fifi. "Like, _now_."

"Um, alright," Fifi mumbled with a weak nod. She was so frightened Dot wondered if she even heard her.

Shaking her head, Dot turned around to face Daggett, glancing down at him uneasily as he stared at the black and white static on the screen of his video camera; it was almost like part of him expected the footage to still be there. In between his twin brother fighting for his life only several feet away and his own life on the line at the same time, Dot was in disbelief over how he could still care about something so stupid.

"Dag, you alright?" Dot said worriedly.

"I'm – errrr - fine," Daggett mumbled quickly. He quickly turned the camera off. "Yeah, um, just _great_. Let's bail out of here."

Dot glanced back over the sofa, her eyes locking like a sniper on the doorway to the stairwell; if they did it fast, it would be a clean break. Roughly half of the soldiers had been lost in the accidental fire that had ensued after Norb had attacked; the handful that remained were engaged in the quarrel of ongoing struggling to pry him off the screaming Spanish soldier with little success.

"We've got to make a break to the door," Dot whispered to the others. "Right now."

"And get shot to bits?" Shirley said harshly. "I'm staying right here, thank you very much."

"I'll go," Fifi said simply.

Shirley's eyes went wide. "Fifi, you've got to be –"

Her words were cut off by a ragged figure that came toppling over the sofa. Dot glanced up just in time to catch a glimpse of camouflage before jumping out of the way; she managed to do it just as the yelping Spanish soldier collapsed to the floor beside them. Norb was still struggling to hang on to him with his webbed hands; now, however, his face bared a look of sheer desperation rather than anger. Shirley shrieked and jumped back, nearly collapsing into a startled Fifi.

"What are you all waiting for?" Norb yelped as he struggled with the soldier. "A written invitation? _Get out of here_!"

They took the suggestion aptly enough as an excuse to start moving. Dot dove out from behind the couch and broke into a run, Daggett breathing heavily behind her and Shirley shrieking as Fifi struggled to lug her along. Dot felt a wave of revulsion as they passed across the bodies of the nameless soldiers that had gotten caught in the crossfire; it was almost as if she half-expected their hands to reach out and grab her. She glanced back to see that the other soldiers had congregated behind the couch, struggling to get a clear shot of Norb as he clung erratically to his target; it was still a fruitless effort and Dot noticed with mild satisfaction that they were keeping their distance from him, almost like an animal control squad.

It was when she turned back around, however, that Dot saw something that made her stop dead in her tracks. One of the soldiers' bodies that had been mangled in the crossfire was slumped against the doorway, its head bowed down in an almost ceremonial fashion toward its guts. If it wasn't for the window's light streaming in on the his face, Dot wouldn't have noticed who it was; it was the pimply-faced kid that had made that strange comment to her back when they'd been held down to the ground: the one about not wanting to be there any more than she did.

Dot looked at his face with a numb kind of fascination, awed by the fact that she didn't even know his name; there was, in fact, probably a whole story behind the kid being there that she would never know. _And you're not going to be any different…_

"Don't stop," Norb's voice muttered. She turned in shock to see he was standing behind her. "Come on, let's blow this joint."

Dot blinked and craned her neck, glancing back to the couch at the other side of the room. The handful of soldiers that had been feebly attempting to get a clean shot were now occupied over the Spanish soldier, helping him steadily rise up to his feet; when he did, Dot caught a glimpse of the bloody scratch marks now etched across his face like tire marks. While at first appeared disoriented, almost like someone awakening from a long sleep, Dot's blood ran cold when his eyes shifted across the room and locked on her; coupled with the sly glance was a carefully practiced wink. Dot didn't even blink.

"Come on," Norb said quickly, tugging at Dot's arm. "We're wasting time."

"Uh, hey Norb?" Daggett said sheepishly.

Norb turned to him. "Yeah?"

"Thanks – y'know, for back there."

Dot was shocked to see Norb smile. "No problemo, Daggy Waggy."

"Hey guys," Fifi said briskly. Her eyes were wide with fear. "Um, you might want to _move_…"

They turned back to see that the soldiers were no longer hassling with helping the one that Norb had attacked; they were now in the midst of busily gathering themselves together, pointing across the room at them like targets in a shooting range. The sight of it was enough to get Dot to start running. The moment she turned around, she could hear their footsteps trundling behind them, almost like the pounding cogs of some kind of industrial machine.

"This way!" Dot called.

They dashed out of the apartment and out into the stairwell; it was a move that saved their lives, seeing how a barrage of bullets chipped the doorway afterwards and, by the sound of it, blew out the electrical fan that Fifi had hooked up in the living room. Shirley screamed but her voice sounded far off somehow; coming down the apartment building, all they could hear were their sounds of their own hearts pumping in their chest. With Norb toon sprinting in front of her and leaving behind a cloud of dust, Dot took the steps three at a time and didn't look back.

"Hold on!" Shirley cried behind her. Dot noticed with horror that her voice practically sounded a whole flight of stairs behind them. "Wait for me, all right? I can't run that fast! _Hold up_!"

Dot heard Fifi shriek in response but quickly tugged at her arm, forcing her onward as they dashed down the stairs. It was no longer a trivial option; it now remained a cemented fact that Dot Warner was going to escape in one piece. Like the bottles that they'd blasted off into the ocean, there was no reason for things not to work out. She was going to breathe fresh air, she was going to see her brothers again, and, like so many other things in her life, nobody was going to say otherwise.

"Hold up!" Shirley's voice echoed from further back up the stairs. "Wait up for me guys! _Please_!"

Dot cringed at the sound of her voice but forced herself onward; the echoing sound of footsteps made it clear that turning back was not an option. For a horrified second she remembered Daggett's difficulty walking a block earlier, thinking of his huffing and puffing at every street corner they reached, and struggled to see him through the cloud of smoke Norb was leaving behind form his sprint. To her surprise, however, Daggett was running only shortly behind her; his fur was bathed in sweat and he seemed to be in the processing of filming the ongoing chaos, the red light on his camera shining hauntingly through the smoke. While part of her was practically infuriated by it, the other half felt a proud sense of vigor; part of Dot wanted what was happening to be seen on the television of every living room in America.

After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the bottom floor and sprinted out into the daylight, breaking out of the fog of running smoke like they were escaping a crumbling building. The buildings and street signs seemed almost foreign to them now; at the same time however, they were a quiet reinforcement of what happened. They were out.

"Shirley!" Fifi screamed. "She's still in there! She's still running down! We have to go back for her!"

"We'll come back for her, Feef," Dot said quietly. It was a painful remark, especially considering it was a blatant lie.

The four of them dashed off down the street, quickly curving into an alley just beside the apartment building; it took a moment for Dot to process that it was the same alleyway they'd gotten captive in earlier. The net was still even dangling overhead like a bird of prey. They all collapsed to the ground in a broken wreck, breathing heavily and nearly coughing their lungs out. Dot turned and watched as Daggett clicked his video camera off behind her.

"That was nuts!" Daggett cried. He gave a resigned groan as he collapsed back into the wall of the alleyway.

"Shirley!" Fifi cried. "_Shirley_! We have to go back!"

Dot grabbed her before she could sprint away. "Fifi, you're _not _going back in there!"

Fifi's eyes went wide. "But Shirley, she –

There was suddenly the sound of a rifle shot that roared out from inside the apartment building; it echoed up from what sounded like one of the bottom floors. The sound of pummeling footsteps immediately stopped.

"Oh…" Fifi moaned.

For the second time in the hour, Fifi fell forward and collapsed into Dot. This time, however, she fainted with her eyes rolling up lightly into her head, a quiet groan escaping her. Dot struggled to hold her, her lips pursed as she glanced out into space. Instead of feeling awkward comforting her friend like before, Dot now felt too petrified to do anything. She thought of how the person that had just died had been the same person that she'd just had a heated argument. In all respects, Dot knew that she shouldn't have felt bad for Shirley; it had been a common remark back when they'd been kids that the loon - with her rude and gossipy nature that pitted people against each other - would get what she had coming eventually. Now, however, struggling to hold Fifi in her arms and huddled in an alley with people who bordered on complete strangers, Dot Warner could only feel sick to her stomach at the idea. _We don't belong here…_

Unwilling to hold her mental oath for herself anymore, Dot began to sniffle as she let everything sink in; she willingly thought about all the things she'd pushed away in the pasts hours, each one coming down hard like nails into her heart. She thought about her brothers; she thought about how far away from home they all were. The one things Dot resisted from thinking about, however, was that things weren't going to be okay. _There was no reason they wouldn't._

"Well, what's the big plan now then?" Daggett asked fearfully.

Even under the circumstances, Dot couldn't hide the fact that she was enraged. "You're asking _me_?"

"I'm just crazy right now, all right!" Daggett shot back. He delved into silence for a moment and bit his lip. "I've never heard anyone die before! It's…it's nothing like it is in the movies…" He paused. "You know, I _really_ want to see my parents right now…"

"Listen," Norb cut in.

There was suddenly the sound of a bugle horn: not just a normal horn, but also a mighty sound that echoed throughout every nook and cranny of the street. It made Dot's fur stand on the end as it hung like an operatic note in the air, not fizzling out but cutting off like a child's scream cutting off at a carnival.

"It's the bad guys," Daggett muttered, getting up from the ground quickly. "It's got to be. There's more of them coming…."

"No, it's not," Dot said shortly. She began to sit up slowly. "It's someone who knows what we have to do."

The horn blew again.


End file.
